Time Warp
by Viscountess Babbles-On
Summary: PG-13 for now. The battle is won, and in the aftermath, some people need to make adjustments to their new lives. Will be slash later on. *WIP*
1. Prologue: A bird's eye view

Standard Disclaimer: As much as I hate to do this, I have to say that none of the characters belong to me. More's the pity. Btw, I'm such a lazy ass that this disclaimer applies to all chapters. I just can't be bothered typing it out over and over again.  
  
  
  
Prologue: A bird's eye view  
  
  
  
In the predawn light, the forest glade was deathly quiet. Nothing disturbed the pall of death that hung over the torn turf. Burnt and twisted wrecks of bodies lay silently among the scorched furrows and explosion craters, and smoke and the smell of charred flesh hung in the air.  
  
A single brave crow dropped from the overhanging trees to land by a still corpse seared beyond recognition. The avian scavenger waddled forward and pecked hard at the ground.  
  
Suddenly a disturbance intruded into the silent glade, and the crow fled to the safety of the trees. Once out of harm's way, she bent her gaze on the cause of the disruption. A deformed silhouette staggered from the underbrush. The crow cawed softly to herself when the figure spoke.  
  
'Damn you, why do you have to be so heavy?'  
  
The silhouette separated as a body was lowered from weary shoulders. The crow cocked her head at the speaker. She watched with avid interest as the boy sagged onto his knees, pressing his palms to the torn grass beneath them. His shoulders shook with helpless sobs.  
  
When a scream issued from the thrown back head of the boy, the crow startled nearly off her branch; only by flapping her wings wildly did she keep her balance. When she turned her attention back to the boy, he was slumped forward, his forehead pressed to the ground between his clenched fists. For a long time, neither the bird, nor the boy moved.  
  
When finally movement returned, the boy turned his head towards the burden he had laid down. Pushing himself up, he crawled closer to the still form. The crow watched as the boy reached out a hand and, after testing that the pulse still beat strong, grasped the shoulders and shook.  
  
'Wake up, damn you. Wake UP!'  
  
The still form did not respond, and the boy sagged despondently back on his knees. Now he just stared at the figure. Intrigued by the interest paid the form, the crow left her branch and flapped to a better vantage. The form on the ground appeared to be a boy no older than the one beside him. Fine black hair lay across a high brow and long lashes caressed smooth pale cheeks. The aristocratic nose was straight and fine above lips that, while not full, escaped the label thin. The still form was not so much thin as slim and evenly muscled. There was no sign of any injury marring the figure, and the crow wondered why the boy would not wake.  
  
The bird started again when the still boy's companion spoke again.  
  
'Why now? Hell, why *today*? You couldn't make it easy for me, could you? You had to go and save my life again and make me obliged to bring you back. I've spent my *whole* life in danger from that monster, and the last six years actively fighting to keep it. And today, when I *finally* defeat the bastard, you couldn't let it end. You had to go and collapse and refuse to wake up.' The boy thumped the ground with clenched fists and ground his teeth. 'Damn you.'  
  
The glade lapsed back into silence as the boy silently contemplated his companion. The crow shuffled up and down her branch, flexing her wings, her yellow gaze fixed firmly on the pair in the glade below.  
  
Finally, the boy staggered to his feet and pulled his still unconscious companion over shoulder already slumped in weariness.  
  
'Well, if you're not going to wake up, I guess I'll just have to get us both back by myself.'  
  
The crow drifted to the ground behind the boy as he and his burden tottered towards the tree line. She cocked her head and clacked her beak as one final comment floated back over the once-again still glade.  
  
'Doesn't anyone care that it's my birthday?' 


	2. Chapter One: Of good news and bad

Chapter One: Of good news and bad  
  
  
  
When Harry Potter woke, he had no idea where he was. Reactions honed by the constant danger he had lived in for the last too many years, Harry kept his eyes closed as he used his other senses to determine his condition and surroundings.  
  
He ached all over. His body felt like it had been sent through a mill. Concentrating beyond the superficial aches, Harry scanned for serious injuries. It hurt to breathe: his ribs were broken, but it seemed that they had been bound at some point. His right hand stung something awful. Harry remembered receiving burns from his wand as it heated with the force of spells pouring through it. His left wrist was bound tightly, but it still felt as though someone was plunging hot needles through it; it was broken. His head throbbed abominably, but otherwise the injuries were negligible.  
  
Satisfied he knew the extent of his injuries, Harry extended his senses outwards, still keeping his eyes closed and face relaxed in a semblance of sleep.  
  
He was laid up on a bed. That much was easy. The air was cool, not the escalating heat of high summer it would be outside. For the most part, silence reigned about him, but somewhere close by Harry could hear the murmur of voices, strangely muffled. Closer in, Harry identified the soft breathing of at least three people.  
  
Unable to gather more information without opening his eyes, Harry chanced slitting them. He opened them fully and relaxed. Even without his glasses, he could recognise that ceiling. So many times had Harry stared up at the ceiling of the hospital wing of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry it was etched on his memory.  
  
He did not, however, immediately recognise the three blurs that loomed over him, respectively topped with brown, red and white. The white-capped blur on his right shifted and Harry felt his glasses being slipped over his nose. Suddenly he could see clearly again and found himself staring into Professor Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes.  
  
The professor sat back in a chair at Harry's bedside and Harry realised the other two blurs had resolved themselves into the familiar visages of his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, their features contorted in worried frowns. Ron was absent-mindedly chewing on a hangnail and Hermione had her arms wrapped tightly about her waist.  
  
A hesitant expression in his eyes, Ron leant forwards.  
  
'Alright Harry?' he asked in a whisper, as though fearing the answering  
  
For a long moment, Harry didn't answer him. In that time Ron and Hermione's expressions grew more and more worried. Eventually, though, Harry nodded almost imperceptibly and smiled at his loyal best friends. A relieved grin spread slowly across Ron's face, and Hermione unwrapped her arms from her waist and launched herself at Harry's neck.  
  
'Harry, we were all so worried!' she babbled, 'When the fighting finally stopped, and we realised nobody had seen You-Know-Who and that you were missing too.'  
  
Suddenly, she drew back, and began to berate Harry in such a typical Hermione-like manner that Harry had to smile.  
  
'You went after him, didn't you? Oh Harry, you could have been killed! And you didn't even tell anyone where you were going!'  
  
Ron clapped a hand over her mouth, effectively silencing her. She glared daggers at him, but his eyes were fixed on Harry's face.  
  
'Harry, what happened? Did you,' Ron swallowed harshly and his voice lowered to a whisper, 'get him? Is Vol- is You-Know-Who..'  
  
The question was left hanging, Ron never taking his eyes from Harry's face. Hermione had stopped struggling against Ron's hand, and now hung off Ron's forearm, her expression intent above the muffling palm.  
  
Harry darted a sidelong glance at Professor Dumbledore where he sat at the bedside. The headmaster was silently regarding the trio, no expression on his lips, but a faint twinkle in his blue eyes.  
  
Harry turned back to his friends and opened his mouth to reply. No sound came out. Harry realised he didn't know how to say it. Instead he settled for allowing a smile to break across his face and nodded his head silently.  
  
The eyes of his friends widened and the tableau froze for a long instance. Then the moment broke, and Ron threw his hands in the air and whooped. Freed from Ron's hold on her, Hermione squealed and jumped up and down on the spot.  
  
Suddenly, the curtains surrounding the bed were ripped back and Harry realised there was a dozen other people in the ward. Harry's gaze darted from face to face, identifying each.  
  
The entire Weasley clan was gathered there; all in various states of repair, but all present and accounted for. They had had the incredible fortune of coming this far in the war without losing any members. Not that they had passed through totally unscathed: Bill had lost an eye to a harpy and now a patch slanted rakishly across his face, complimenting his ponytail and dragon-tooth earring and Charlie had hideous burns on both his forearms from dragon fire. George's thigh had been run through by a gremlin's blade and he would forever more walk with a limp, but he considered it better than losing an entire foot, as Arthur Weasley had. Molly Weasley and the rest of the Weasley children, Percy, Fred, Ginny and Ron himself, had sustained only a few minor wounds.  
  
Mr Weasley sat next to his wife on an empty bed, his crutches propped beside him. Fred was supporting his twin about his waist, allowing George to rest his wounded leg. Percy and Ginny were just now standing from the floor at their parents' feet; Bill and Charlie had propped themselves against the wall behind them.  
  
Harry's gaze travelled over them all and onto the other occupants of the room. His face almost cracked with relief to see his godfather alive and well. At least, as well as was to be expected. Harry had last seen Sirius over a month previously and there had been no word from him since. And now, here he sat, in Harry's sick room. Harry realised then that Sirius was in a wheelchair and both his legs were in casts. It seemed he had not managed to escape without paying war's toll.  
  
Leaning on the back of Sirius' wheelchair, as though he needed the additional support was Remus. And indeed, it looked like he would collapse at any moment. Harry knew that he had allowed himself to undergo the full werewolf transform for the last battle, and that it would have taken a hell of a lot out of him.  
  
In the shadows by the door, Harry spied the hulking figure of Hagrid. He looked unsure of himself and even more unsure of his welcome. Several Death Eaters had captured Hagrid and placed him under the Imperious Curse early on the war. It had been weeks before Dumbledore had managed to break the curse on him and Hagrid had been forced to do things that had yet to be forgiven by several of the more bloody-minded defenders of the light. It pained Harry to see his first friend look so haunted.  
  
It had been Madam Pomfery who had ripped back the curtains, and she stood now at the foot of his bed, looking worn to the bone. Harry knew that many people owed their lives to Poppy and her selfless dedication to their health.  
  
Harry realised that these were the owners of the voices he had heard when he had first awoken. At the present moment, they were all staring at Harry, laid up in bed, and at Ron and Hermione who, having wrapped their arms about each other, were bouncing about, still whooping.  
  
Ron abruptly let go of Hermione and shouted at the stunned spectators: 'HARRY DID IT! VOLDEMORT'S DEAD! HARRY KILLED HIM!'  
  
Harry had only time to note that Ron seemed to have lost his fear of that dreaded name before the room erupted.  
  
Fred and George whooped to rival Ron and slapped each other on the back, George staggering under his brother's blow. Percy, in an uncharacteristic display of abandon had wrapped his arms about his sister's waist and was twirling with her in the air. Molly Weasley was sobbing piteously into her husband's robes, the huge smile on her face vying with Arthur's rather bemused one for brightness. Bill and Charlie had slung their arms about each other's necks and were adding their voices to the twins' and Ron's.  
  
Forgetting his unease, Hagrid lumbered forward and pulled Ron and Hermione into a tight embrace. It was a measure of their ecstasy at the good news that they didn't protest at the crushing hug, but rather returned it with all their might.  
  
Sirius had raised his arms above his head and wrapped them about Remus' neck, pulling him down. Remus protested good-naturedly, but Harry noted that the werewolf had his own arms about his friend's shoulders and was holding on just as tight. Both their faces cracked with the breadth of their grins. Madam Pomfery had let go of the curtain and had her hands clasped beneath her chin, silent tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.  
  
All this amidst whoops, cheers, yells, and - courtesy of Fred and George, Harry suspected - darting Filibuster's Wet-start Fireworks. Mrs Weasley left her husband and hurried to Harry's beside. She pulled Harry into her arms, babbling about how relieved she was and what an idiot Harry was for going off and worrying them all. His godfather yanked Harry out of her arms and into an embrace, and they shed no few tears in their relief at being reunited. Harry tried not to wince as his ribs informed him that they did not appreciate the rough treatment and the frequent buffets he was receiving about the back.  
  
Abruptly as the noise had begun, it was ceased when Madam Pomfrey raised her voice above the racket and chased every body out of the room, leaving behind only Harry and Professor Dumbledore. Harry sighed in relief and felt immediately guilty. But, he reasoned with himself, the war was over now and he would have plenty of time to be with his friends and family later. Right now, he knew he needed rest.  
  
Harry allowed himself to relax against his pillows. Madam Pomfery closed the door behind the visitors and disappeared into her office. Harry turned his head to look at Professor Dumbledore. On second thoughts, right now Harry knew he had to tell the headmaster what had happened. Harry grimaced. Then he sat bolt upright, ignoring the renewed throbbing in his head.  
  
'Where is he!' Harry went to push back his covers and leave his bed, but Dumbledore stopped him.  
  
'Sir, you don't understand! There was.. um.. somebody else with me and I have to find him!'  
  
Dumbledore chuckled lightly at Harry's insistence. He drew back the curtains on the right side of Harry's bed.  
  
'Is this who you were looking for, Harry?'  
  
In the bed beyond the curtains lay a still figure. A fine boned hand lay carelessly upon the white covers and the black hair fanned out upon the pillow. Harry leant far out of his bed towards the boy, his gaze avidly roving over him, insuring he was still alive.  
  
Dumbledore closed the curtains again and drew his chair closer to Harry's bed.  
  
'Hagrid found you and this young man collapsed at the edge of the Forbidden Forest behind his hut. You wouldn't let go of him until we assured you he would be well taken care of.' Dumbledore turned a curious gaze on the curtain separating him the young stranger, 'although he seems somehow familiar, I don't believe I know him.' The bright blue gaze returned to Harry, 'Who is he?'  
  
Harry fell back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had a tale to tell, one he would rather never think of again. But - it was better to get it over and done with. Ignoring the headmaster's question for the time being, Harry began to speak.  
  
'The battle had just been joined when I saw Voldemort disappearing into the Forbidden Forest. He was alone. Just before he moved out of sight, he turned and looked directly at me. He was challenging me to follow.' Harry sighed and shifted his gaze to the window. In the sky beyond, the sun was lowering towards the west.  
  
'I looked around to tell someone, but everybody was already out of reach. If I took the time to find someone to tell, I knew I'd lose Voldemort. I followed him.' Dumbledore made a small sound of disapproval and Harry turned a mild glare on him, 'It worked didn't it?'  
  
Dumbledore made a placating gesture with his hands and indicated that Harry should continue.  
  
'I was already a fair way into the forest when I realised someone was behind me. I could see Professor Snape following the tracks of Voldemort and I through the undergrowth. I ignored him after that; I had to concentrate on following Voldemort.  
  
'I must have pursued him for hours. All I know, the moon was setting when he finally stopped in a clearing. I'd pretty much lost track Professor Snape by then.' A shiver ran through Harry's body, 'Voldemort started throwing spells at me; hexes, jinxes, charms. And curses, more curses than I ever dreamt existed.  
  
'It was all I could do to dodge the spells at first.' Harry fell silent for a moment, fingering his left wrist. It had been broken when he leapt aside to avoid a particularly virulent curse. His voice was weary as he continued, 'I retaliated. I don't even remember what I cast at him now. It was all a blur. I've no idea how long this went on for. But then he hit me.' He gestured vaguely at his chest, 'In the ribs.'  
  
Harry's brow crinkled in remembered consternation, 'It was a full body bind. The moment Voldemort saw he had hit me, he stopped. He just stood there staring at me for the longest time, and I couldn't break the bind.  
  
'Then he laughed. He pulled a vial of potion from within his robes and dangled it in front of my face. He said he was going to do what he should have done sixteen years; *exactly* what he should have done sixteen years ago. He said he realised now what had gone wrong the first time, and that this time he was going to do everything exactly right.' Harry shuddered at the memory.  
  
'Voldemort moved away from me; stood across the glade from me. He threw the vial in the air and it burst. A bright blue ball of liquid hung in front of him. He raised his wand and pointed it at the potion. He grinned at me. Then he shouted an incantation and sent the potion at me.  
  
'I couldn't move!' Harry was caught up in his memory, reliving the moment, 'It was coming straight at me and I couldn't break the bloody body bind. Then suddenly Professor Snape was between the potion and me. He had.. he must have been the in trees the whole time.  
  
'The potion and spell hit his shield. Some of it splashed back, hitting Voldemort. For a moment, I thought the shield would hold. But it broke and the spell and potion engulfed Professor Snape. There was a blue flash. The body bind on me broke, but I couldn't see anything.  
  
'When my eyesight came back, Professor Snape was writhing on the ground in front of me. Voldemort was.. I don't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't moving. I.. I just pointed my wand at him and shouted the first thing that came to my lips,' A tear gathered at the corner of Harry's eye. His voice was a whisper, 'Avada Kedavra. I used the killing curse. And I kept on using it. Again and again.'  
  
Harry's hands were trembling. The tear rolled down his temple and into his hair. Professor Dumbledore covered Harry's cold hands with his own. For a long time, silence reigned the ward. Finally, Dumbledore broke it.  
  
'What happened after that, Harry? Voldemort was dead?'  
  
Harry nodded jerkily, but didn't speak.  
  
'And Professor Snape?' Harry heard a note of worry for his friend enter the headmaster's voice, 'Was he okay? And what of this young man? Where did he come from?' Dumbledore gestured beyond the curtain.  
  
A wry smile twisted Harry's lips.  
  
'Professor Snape was.. okay. Not wounded; at least, not physically. He just wouldn't wake up.' Harry reached a hand under his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. Letting his hand fall back to his side, he fixed his gaze meaningfully on Dumbledore's, 'In the end, I had to carry him all the way back to the school.'  
  
Professor Dumbledore's head jerked involuntarily towards the other bed, 'You mean.?'  
  
Harry nodded grimly, 'That's Professor Snape.'  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: So do you like? Tell me what you think by using that wonderful review button! ^_~ Seriously, though, I could do with some suggestions of what should happen through out the story. I have a few ideas and I certainly know were I want to go with my story, but I just don't know how to get there. 


	3. Chapter Two: Our sleeping beauty awakes

Chapter Two: Our sleeping beauty awakes  
  
  
  
Professor Dumbledore stood over the hospital bed looking down at its occupant. He was trying to reconcile this dark-haired, pale young man with the Potions Master he knew so well. The brow was unfurrowed, the nose straight, and the lips were more full relaxed out of their habitual sneer. As the boy's eyes were closed, Dumbledore couldn't yet say how they had changed. All in all, though, if he hadn't been told that this young man was in fact Severus Snape, it would have taken him an inordinate amount of time to come to that realisation on his own.  
  
And yet, for one who had seen many seemingly impossible things, Albus felt the need to confirm the identity of this young invalid.  
  
Turning his sparking blue eyes from the still form, he fixed his attention on the occupant of the next bed: one Harry Potter.  
  
The green eyes that meet his were wise beyond their years. They had seen entirely too much for one so young, more than *any* person should *ever* have to see.  
  
The expression in those eyes told Dumbledore that this young man, soon to be hailed as The Boy Who Lived To Defeat The Dark Lord, already had a fair idea of what the ramifications would be if word of Professor Snape's transformation were to leak out.  
  
Dumbledore broke the gaze to look once more on the young man in the bed before him.  
  
'This young man is Severus Snape.' It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded anyway. He had propped himself up on one elbow and was gazing at the patient in the next bed as well.  
  
Professor Dumbledore gave a curt nod and turned from the bed. Drawing the curtain carefully closed behind him, he pulled a chair close to Harry's bed. Folding his hands neatly in his lap, he bent forwards and fixed his gaze on Harry's face. Dumbledore was so intent on him that Harry watched in a half daze as the headmaster's mouth formed one word.  
  
'How?'  
  
Harry watched in fascination as Dumbledore's lips settled closed and his voice echoed in Harry's head. When, at last, his meaning filtered through the fog, Harry shook his head lightly. He collapsed back off his elbow and stared up at the hospital wing ceiling.  
  
'It was - I mean I *think* it was the potion - and the spell - Voldemort cast at me. I mean, it *must* have been.'  
  
Dumbledore nodded his head gravely, wether in acknowledgment of, or agreement with his theory, Harry didn't know.  
  
'What do you remember of that?' Harry let his eyes drift closed and slipped his fingers under his glasses to rub them.  
  
'The potion was floating in front of Voldemort. It was bright blue -'  
  
'Could you smell it?' Dumbledore interjected a soft query.  
  
'It..it smelt like honey and .. um ..' Harry paused, considering, '..rue. It smelt like honey and rue.'  
  
Dumbledore was listening intently to Harry's words. Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and continued to elaborate.  
  
'He pointed his wand at me and shouted an incantation that sent the potion towards me. I never caught the second part of it; that was when Professor Snape leapt between me and the potion. What I did hear was.. sounded like. *Kronos*.  
  
'Then the potion and spell hit Snape's shield. It held for only a moment. When the potion and spell broke through and hit him, there was that great blue flash.  
  
'When I could see again, Professor Snape was the ground. I - didn't see what happened after that. I was too busy -' Harry choked, unwilling to face those memories again so soon.  
  
Fortunately, Dumbledore had heard all he needed for now. Muttering to himself, he vacated his seat and drew the curtain back again to stare at the young Severus Snape. Harry watched as the headmaster kept muttering and nodding his head. Occasionally, he would lift his head and stare into the distance, only to shake it and look down again.  
  
Eventually, Dumbledore sat down again, silent but still staring at Snape. Encouraged by the headmaster's continuing silence, Harry ventured a question.  
  
'Professor? Do you know what the potion and spell were?'  
  
'No idea, Mr Potter.' Dumbledore smiled benignly at his Gryffindor student, who stared, confounded, back at him.  
  
'Then what..' Harry flailed about for the words to articulate himself.  
  
'What do I intend to do about Professor Snape's.. condition?'  
  
Harry nodded dumbly.  
  
'Nothing for now.' Dumbledore turned back to his Potions Professor, 'I only hope that when Severus wakes up, he will be able to assist us in identifying the potion.'  
  
Harry sat slowly and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Dumbledore gave him a mildly censoring glance, but did not berate him when Harry made no move to leave the bed entirely. Instead, Harry placed his elbows on his knees and, with a care for his abused ribs, leant forward to stare into Severus Snape's still face.  
  
He was peripherally aware of Madam Pomfery returning to the ward to check up on her patients, but was too fixated with his professor to acknowledge her. He could see her at the edge of his vision, leaning over the professor.  
  
Harry and Madam Pomfery simultaneously flinched backwards when the eyes in the pale face sprang open. Harry thought he saw something frantic and fearful in those black depths. Then Professor Dumbledore broke Harry's view as he moved closer to the bedside, and when Harry could see Snape's face again a mask had lowered over the curiously uncharacteristic expression Harry thought he had seen.  
  
Dumbledore had put on his best reassuring expression as he smiled down at his friend. But instead of the glare Harry expected him to level at the headmaster, the transformed professor's expression was almost.. diffident?  
  
'Professor Dumbledore?' asked a lighter, higher version of the Potion's Master dark-velvet voice, 'Where - I'm in the hospital wing? What happened?'  
  
Harry was thoroughly confused as Snape allowed Madam Pomfery to check him over without snapping at her. He could see Dumbledore noting this as well, as he answered.  
  
'We aren't completely sure what happened. I was hoping you could help us with that. You don't remember anything?'  
  
The dark head moved from side to side on the pillow and a guarded look entered the dark eyes. Dumbledore hummed lightly under his breath. Madam Pomfery finished her examination of her patient and cast a reassuring nod at the headmaster.  
  
'Professor?' Again, there was a quality to the Professor's voice that didn't sound as assertive as usual.  
  
'Hmm?' Dumbledore looked up, 'Oh, I'm sorry Severus. All we know is what Mr Potter here can tells us.' Dumbledore gestured vaguely in Harry's direction. Snape followed the hand gesture and ended up glaring at Harry, whom he hadn't noticed upon waking.  
  
The glare was a general what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here one and Snape started to glance away. But then the eyes returned for another longer look, studying Harry as if he didn't look quite as Snape had expected. There was vague confusion about Snape's eyes now and Harry shivered slightly, wanting those disturbing eyes off him.  
  
His wish was granted as Dumbledore continued on, not noticing the exchange between the two. Snape returned his gaze to the headmaster.  
  
'From what Mr Potter recalls, it seems you were on the receiving end of a particularly nasty Dark Magic of some description. I was hoping your Potions expertise would enable us to identify what was used on you.'  
  
Something flickered across the pale features and if Harry hadn't known better, he would have said Snape was flattered by Dumbledore's last comment. But that wasn't right; the Snape Harry knew would be sarcastic and believe no one competent enough to identify the potion but himself.  
  
Harry shook of the sensation of something out of place and put it down to the effects of the magic inadvertently worked on Snape by Voldemort. He was speaking again:  
  
'But.. what did it do to me?' his eyes searching the headmaster's face.  
  
Harry, Madam Pomfery and Dumbledore shared glances, each wondering what would be the best way to break it to the Potions Professor. Dumbledore cleared his throat.  
  
'I think, perhaps, it would be best if you saw for yourself.' Dumbledore withdrew his wand from his robes and conjured a small hand mirror, holding it out to the young Potions Professor.  
  
Snape pushed himself up until he was sitting propped against the pillows and took the mirror with trepidation. Warily, he glanced at the mirror expecting to see some great disfiguration.  
  
He blinked. He furrowed his brow in bewilderment.  
  
'I don't understand.' He raised his eyes from his reflection to look at the headmaster. There was an expectant expression in the blue eyes and when Severus glanced at the school matron and.. Potter.. their faces were just as expectant. What they were waiting for, Snape couldn't fathom.  
  
'There's nothing wrong with me.'  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: Short I know, but I don't go in for long chapters. At least, I don't think I do. As this is my first chapter fic, I couldn't say with any certainty. Anyway, the next chapter is already in the works, so be patient and I will deliver. 


	4. Chapter Three: Come again? I'm how old?

Chapter Three: Come again? I'm *how* old?  
  
  
  
Madam Pomfery and Professor Dumbledore stared disbelieving at the Potions Professor. Whatever reaction they had expected out the man when he discovered his transformation, this was *not* it.  
  
Harry snorted. He couldn't help it. He muttered under his breath:  
  
'No! There's nothing wrong with you! Expect for the fact you look the same age as me.'  
  
Unfortunately, Snape heard him. The black eyes were suddenly locked onto the Gryffindor in a death glare. Harry flushed. He mumbled an apology:  
  
'Sorry Professor.'  
  
He cringed, expecting a tongue-lashing, or at least a well-placed derogatory remark. None was forthcoming. Instead, Harry watched Snape's eyes widen ever so slightly.  
  
Severus was sure he had misheard. He snapped at Potter in shock.  
  
'What did you call me?'  
  
Harry was flustered now. What was going on?  
  
'I..um.. called you professor,' Snape continued to glare at Harry, '..Professor Snape..' The glare intensified, '..Sir..'  
  
Harry fidgeted with his bandages and looked away.  
  
Snape's voice sounded odd when he spoke, 'Is this some kind of joke?'  
  
Harry snapped his head up, startled.  
  
'Joke?' he choked out, 'No Professor! It.. I..'  
  
But Snape was ignoring him now. He was fuming at Professor Dumbledore.  
  
'Professor Dumbledore, you can't let him treat me like this! I don't care if he's the precious Gryffindor Heir, James bloody Potter. It still doesn't give him and his marauder cronies the right to treat us Slytherin students like scum!'  
  
Severus stopped ranting when he realised everyone was staring at him. Madam Pomfery hurried forward and placed a hand on his forehead, waving her wand over the length of his body. The Potter boy was staring at him like he had never seen him before and Dumbledore wore a closed expression.  
  
Harry gaped at his Potions Professor.  
  
'I'm not..' He stared to say, but he was quelled by a glance from Dumbledore. Dumbledore regarded his friend silently for a long moment.  
  
'Severus,' Dumbledore's voice was quiet, 'What year is it?'  
  
Severus was staring back now, just as confused Potter.  
  
'1976,' he stated with conviction.  
  
Potter gasped and Severus noted his eyes had widened impossibly. Severus did a sudden double-take. Potter's... green... eyes. Green, like the eyes of that Evans girl that was always hanging around James.  
  
Severus looked closer. There was a lightening shaped scar on the boy's brow that he had never noticed before. And those glasses weren't the ones James usually wore, were they? Severus shivered. What was going on here?  
  
He dragged his gaze from the disturbingly different Potter and examined the hospital ward more closely. It seemed... both older and newer at the same time. Items Severus distinctly recalled looked to have aged overnight. And there were other things, bright and new, that he had never seen before. Things that he could barely even comprehend.  
  
His gaze travelled further. Madam Pomfery's hair was grey, and lines of care marred her skin. Professor Dumbledore... Severus thought Professor Dumbledore was the only to not have changed. Until he looked closer. The long white hair and beard were the same as always, as were the sparkling blue eyes. But the half-moon glasses had a gold frame now, where Severus had always thought the frame was silver. And there were just a few too many lines about the eyes.  
  
'Professor?' Severus gritted his teeth and forced the despicable quaver from his voice before continuing, 'Professor, it's not 1976, is it?'  
  
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled gently.  
  
'You always were a quick study, Severus. Indeed, it isn't 1976 any more. It hasn't been for twenty years. Technically, you are 37 years old.'  
  
'What?!' Severus tried to push himself upright, but Madam Pomfery had her hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He glared at her and she glared back. Finally he acquiesced and lay back down.  
  
'What happened to the last 20 years? I've been in a coma all this time? What happened to me?'  
  
Dumbledore reached out to pat Severus's hand reassuringly, but Sev snatched it away, glaring steadily at his headmaster, waiting for an answer.  
  
'No, young Severus, it was nothing like that.' Albus glanced sidelong at Harry, 'You lived the last twenty years quite naturally. It was just last night that you were caught in that dark magic. We believe that to be to blame for your present condition.'  
  
Severus's eyes widened. 'You mean I've lost my memory?'  
  
Dumbledore's expression settled into sober lines, and he nodded.  
  
'Well, cast the reversal spell and change me back!' Dumbledore was still shaking his head, and Severus struggled to contain his emotions, 'Why not?'  
  
'I'm afraid we don't know the counter spell. Harry was the only witness and what he could tell us wasn't enough to identify it. To tell the truth, I'm not sure I could have identified it even if I had been there myself. Voldemort spent his life studying Dark Magic.'  
  
A shadow flitted across Severus's face, 'Voldemort?'  
  
Dumbledore stood and placed a hand on Severus's shoulder.  
  
'I think we'll leave the explanations for later. Right now, I'm sure that Madam Pomfery would like nothing more for me to leave and allow her patients to rest.'  
  
Madam Pomfery nodded her head vigorously and gestured Dumbledore from the room. She shut the door firmly behind him and placed a light locking charm on it to prevent clandestine entry.  
  
'Now I want you boys to rest. I'll be back later to examine you.' she admonished as she disappeared into her office.  
  
Severus stoically ignored the green-eyed gaze he could feel on the side of his face, sinking, instead, into his own thoughts.  
  
Twenty years.  
  
He had lost twenty years of his life.  
  
He couldn't remember the last twenty years.  
  
Sev felt the urge to shiver, but repressed it harshly. He wouldn't show weakness, not under any circumstances.  
  
Severus was scared, although he wouldn't admit to it, not even to himself. But the fact of the matter was he didn't know who he was any more. He only recalled who he had been at the age of seventeen.  
  
Never one to allow circumstances to get the better of him, Severus bent his logical mind upon assessing whom he may have become. That... Potter-boy had called him Professor. He was a teacher? At Hogwarts? What of?  
  
Severus decided that there was only one subject he would even consider demeaning himself to teach: Potions. He turned the idea over in his mind: his thirty-seven-year-old self was the Potions Professor of Hogwarts. At least, he *hoped*. Sev's lips twisted in a grimace of distaste and he decided that if it turned out he was actually the Professor of some inane subject like Charms, he would take a good shot of poison.  
  
Well, he had a profession. What else?  
  
He had no idea if his mother was still alive, or his niece. Or his father, for that matter, but Severus hated the man that had sired him and found he could not care less if he was dead or alive, except to wish him to the ninth circle of hell if he wasn't there already.  
  
Severus didn't even pause to dwell on the possibility of any friendships; he hadn't *ever* had anybody he would truly call a friend, and he saw no reason to suspect that had changed in the last twenty years. He was a Snape, and Snapes were solitary.  
  
Most desperately, of all the things he no longer knew about his life, Severus didn't know who his enemies were. And the prospect of unknown enemies worried him. He understood enemies, he understood having them and living with them. But always, in the past, he had *known* his enemies, known their weaknesses and their strengths. And, most of all, he had known how to guard against them.  
  
Severus worried at this thought for interminable minutes. Finally, he gave it up as a lost cause. Until he knew more about his life for the last twenty years, there was simply no way for him to determine who his enemies might be.  
  
Severus opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling, forcing his mind to empty. He didn't want to think any more, he just wanted to drift. Although, that annoying next-generation Potter was making it incredibly hard, staring at him like that. Severus clenched his teeth and attempted to ignore the boy.  
  
At length, though, he found he could stand the stare of the other boy no longer.  
  
'What are you staring at?' he snapped, glaring at the annoyance.  
  
Harry shook his head and looked away. He watched from the corner of his eye as Professor Snape turned his regard back to the ceiling. Although, Harry mused, he wasn't exactly *Professor* Snape any more was he? He was just.... Snape. An ordinary seventeen-year-old wizard, just like Harry himself.  
  
Harry snorted to himself. Okay, bad example. Being The Boy Who Lived didn't exactly make for leading a normal lifestyle. Then again, Harry supposed that Snape had never been 'normal' either. Unless it was Slytherin-normal. Suspicious and defensive from the moment he woke up. And ready to blame everything on the nearest Gryffindor.  
  
Harry snorted again, louder this time. Serve the greasy git right. A just punishment for treating all teenagers with such disdain. Harry hoped he was stuck that way for a good long time. Enough, at least, to remind him what it was like to be seventeen again. And long enough for Harry and Ron to get their revenge on him while he couldn't retaliate.  
  
And yet, Harry, being the true Gryffindor he was, knew he was being uncharitable. Snape was in this... condition because he had been saving Harry's life. And it wasn't even the first time he had done so in the war against Voldemort. Harry tried to imagine what it would be like to wake up one morning and be told that you'd forgotten twenty years of you life. Twenty years. Harry hadn't even lived that long.  
  
He reassured himself with the thought that Ron and Hermione would be able to tell him all he had forgotten. They were his best friends and they wouldn't let him forget. But.... Snape didn't have a best friend, did he? Harry doubted the man even had *a* friend, let alone a *best* friend. And he seemed to like it that way.  
  
Harry glanced at the new and... well, he had no idea if Snape was improved. He could see the young man out of the corner of his eye. He was still staring fixedly at the ceiling. Harry was about to turn to his side facing away from Snape when he noticed the boy's hands. They were clenched in the sheets, white and trembling. He glanced back at the impassive face.  
  
Harry turned on his side and stared at the bed curtains. It seemed that at the age of seventeen, Snape hadn't yet gained the complete control of his body's reactions that his older self sported. Snape was angry or upset about something.  
  
It occurred to Harry that Snape felt vulnerable and that he likely hated that feeling. Harry had never seen his Potions Master in less than full control of himself in any situation. And now, here he was, laid up in bed in a world that was completely different from the one he recalled and there was nothing he could do to remedy his situation. He was at Dumbledore's mercy...  
  
Harry gratefully left his train of thought as the bed curtains whipped back, and Madam Pomfery bustled in to make her promised examination.  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: I have a full weekend this weekend, so the next chapter probably won't be up until Monday. I usually upload on Mondays, btw. Anyway, the real reason I'm writing here is to tell you that everything will be explained to Sev next chapter and also to you, the readers. I will be giving you an idea of what is to happen to Sev.  
  
And about Sev thinking he would only teach Potions: I just know everybody's going to say 'But what about DADA?' Gotta remember, people, back when Sev was in school, there was no DADA. That came later.  
  
And sorry about the slight disjointed-ness of the last part.. I wanted to post and it made enough sense. I may take it down and revise it later. The thing is, I have not beta. 


	5. Chapter Four: Introducing the newest mem...

AN: this is something I should have done ages ago: Thanking my reviewers  
  
Avalon: Thanks for your advice... this story is going so slowly because its hard to figure out Sev would react.. I hope I'm getting it right  
  
Charzy: I'm getting there with the writing.. Slow and steady wins the race  
  
MadByrd: anybody else that tries to touch Harry's Sev will find themselves being feed to the giant squid  
  
Lee Lee Potter: Snape hasn't told me wether or not he'll be staying that way. It's as much a mystery to me as it is ti you  
  
Caytin Lowe: you liked my battle scene? Really? Wow. I was a bit unsure about it. ^_^ Thanks!  
  
Wittchway: I hope to see more of you too  
  
Lee Lee Potter (again): It wasn't meant to occur to you that he regressed mentally too.  
  
emma: I fuelled your imagination? Woohoo! I'm so proud. Harry will help Sev adjust if Sev lets him  
  
Gyffindor-girl2002: You'll just have to keep on reading to find out what happens. no clues.  
  
siw-wa: I don't if you've read something like this before.. But I sincerely hope I'm being at least a little original  
  
lillie-chan: I have no idea if I'll change Sev back to his old self. Only time (and my Muses) will tell  
  
ray: I'm glad you like my tale.  
  
Anyways: On to the story, people! And aliens... And fanfic readers, who are a species unto themselves...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Four: Introducing the newest member of the Hogwarts family  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry shifted in his chair and glanced at the young Severus Snape out of the corner of his eye. It was disconcerting to think that this was what he had looked like when he had been at school with Harry's parents. Or, more to the point, it was disconcerting to think that this was the boy his parents had gone to school with.  
  
Severus Snape *was* that boy from twenty years ago, Harry had to keep reminding himself. It wasn't that he just looked like a seventeen-year-old wizard. For all intents and purposes he *was* a seventeen-year-old wizard. Harry was just having a hard time getting his head around it.  
  
Of course, it probably would be easier to do if Snape were talking. He hadn't said a word since he'd snapped at Harry the afternoon before. Even when Madam Pomfery had come in just after lunch to tell them that Dumbledore wished to speak with them in his office, he had just nodded and walked out of the room, leaving Harry gaping after him.  
  
After hurrying to catch up with him, Harry had followed two paces behind him as Snape strode down the halls toward Dumbledore's office. Harry had noticed that even at age seventeen, Snape had liked to sweep about. Of course, since he hadn't grown into his body properly he didn't pull it off nearly as well Harry remembered the adult Snape doing.  
  
Harry was actively having to stifle his giggle when he almost ran into the other boy's back. He realised they had arrived at the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Snape had glared at him, but didn't speak. Harry sighed. It didn't look like Snape was even going to break his silence to say the password. Then again, Harry supposed it could be that he just didn't know it.  
  
But then, neither did Harry. He decided to take a wild stab.  
  
'Strawberries-and-cream.' Snape stared at him as though he had lost his mind. Harry grinned. Obviously Dumbledore hadn't started using sweets as his password until after Snape's seventh year. And just as obviously, the current password wasn't strawberries-and-cream. Harry had started to run through an extensive list of confectionaries he and Ron had made up in their spare time and memorised, just in case they ever needed to get into the headmaster's office in a hurry. At liquorice all-sorts, the gargoyle had swung open and Harry had set off up the moving staircase, leaving Snape to trail behind *him* this time.  
  
Dumbledore hadn't been in the office when they arrived, so the two boys had taken the seats set in front of the headmaster's desk. And they were still waiting. Harry glanced again at the impassive Snape.  
  
  
  
The Potter boy was staring again. Severus had hoped that when the boy realised he wasn't going to speak, he would lose interest in him. No such luck. Stubborn Gryffindor. Or at least, he presumed the boy was a Gryffindor. Both his parents were. Or had been.  
  
Severus wanted to grimace but that would be breaking his stony façade. It was all too confusing. Not to mention unfair. Why did he have to be the one caught up in some unidentified Dark Magic? Was it really too much to ask that someone else be on the receiving end of bad luck for once? Like James Potter. Or even better, Black. Severus considered it high time Black got his comeuppance. Not that that was ever likely to happen.  
  
Of course not. The Gryffindor Marauders were immune to bad luck it seemed. Every time they did something wrong, it usually ended up being blamed on some hapless Slytherin. And most often, said hapless Slytherin was Severus Snape.  
  
Severus didn't imagine for a moment that the next-generation Potter that was *still* *staring* at him was any different from his father. He had certainly proved amply that he was just as annoying, if not more so.  
  
Severus fought the urge to sigh. He just wanted this all over and done with. He wanted to be himself again, whoever that was. He wanted to know what had happened to his family. He wanted to know who his enemies were. Basically, he just wanted to have his memories back.  
  
At the very least, he wanted to be as far away from - what was it? Harry? - Potter as he could possibly get. But then, Severus had always believed that Dumbledore had a sadistic streak, and, knowing the headmaster, Severus would probably end up attached at the hip to Potter.  
  
Just as Severus was building himself up to a good indignant rage over something that had yet to happen, the door swung open and Dumbledore came in. Severus noted that he still had that infernal bird. At least, he presumed it was the same bird; it was a phoenix after all.  
  
'Ah, boys! I'm glad you could join me! How are you both feeling? Harry?'  
  
Severus noted that the Potter-boy seemed just as overly bright as Dumbledore as he answered.  
  
'I'm feeling much better, sir, but Madam Pomfery won't let me leave the infirmary.'  
  
Dumbledore smiled benignly at Potter as he placed the phoenix, Fawkes, on a golden perch, 'All in good time, my boy. She'll release you when she's sure you're one hundred percent.' Dumbledore took his seat behind the desk before turning to Severus, 'And you Severus? How are you adjusting to this day and age?'  
  
Severus would like to have been able to send a good scowl toward the headmaster, but didn't think it would be prudent. So instead he settled for hitching his shoulders lightly and glowering at his hands.  
  
He imagined that Dumbledore had cast a questioning look at Potter, because the boy said in a stage whisper, 'He hasn't spoken since yesterday.'  
  
Severus was quite sure he wouldn't get in trouble for glaring at Potter, so he did so. The boy shrugged than ostensibly ignored him, turning instead to the headmaster. Severus schooled his face to blankness and turned to Dumbledore as well. Dumbledore sat back in his chair, chewing on a lemon drop and folded his hands across his middle. He turned his bright blue eyes on Severus.  
  
'I'm sure you have all kinds of questions, Mr Snape, but let me give you a general explanation first, hmm?'  
  
Severus didn't think he really had any choice but to agree. He nodded; somewhat sullenly, he knew.  
  
'Good. Good, well then, why don't we start at the very beginning? It's a very good place to start.' Next to Severus, Potter snorted and when he glanced at the boy, he seemed to be trying not to laugh. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling at the boy. Severus, not understanding what was so amusing, glared indiscriminately at them both. Dumbledore cleared his throat.  
  
'Yes, well. The beginning. As you already know, Severus, you have lost twenty years of growth and memories to some as yet unidentified Dark Magic. The last you remember would be sometime in 1976, correct?' he barely paused to receive Severus's nod, 'Your seventh year. As I recall, you passed your N.E.W.Ts at the head of your class.  
  
'After you left Hogwarts, I didn't see you for another year and a half. I did however receive reports of your doings from time to time. I was most disappointed at one particular report, just a month after you'd left my care: I had word that you'd taken the Dark Mark and entered Voldemort's service as a Death Eater.'  
  
Dumbledore paused here, and seemed to be thinking on something. He leant forward over the desk, and fixed Severus with a direct gaze.  
  
'May I see your left arm, Mr Snape.' Utterly baffled as to why Dumbledore could possibly want to see his arm, Severus slipped his sleeve up his arm and extended the limb outwards. Dumbledore gripped his wrist lightly and turned his arm til it lay palm upwards.  
  
Beside him, Severus heard Potter gasp. He glanced at the boy to see what had caused such a reaction and found him staring at Severus's inner forearm, his green eyes wide.  
  
'Hmm,' Dumbledore rubbed a thumb across the pale, unmarked skin, 'Interesting.'  
  
'Its gone!' Potter exclaimed.  
  
'Indeed it has.'  
  
Severus was glancing back and forth between the pair, trying figure out what on earth they were going on about. Finally, he couldn't take it any more and broke his self-imposed vow of silence.  
  
'*What's* gone?' he demanded of any one that would listen. Which was, apparently, no one. Potter did cast him an odd look, but immediately returned his gaze to the headmaster who was still examining Severus's arm.  
  
'What does it mean, sir?'  
  
'I'm afraid I don't know Mr Potter. We'll have to examine a Death Eater to see if his Mark had faded as well.'  
  
Severus lost his patience. He snatched his arm back and drew his sleeve down.  
  
'*What* are you talking about? What's gone from my arm?' he snapped  
  
It was Potter who answered.  
  
'The Dark Mark. You had the Dark Mark there and now it's gone.'  
  
Severus glanced at Dumbledore for confirmation and blanched when the headmaster nodded. He clutched his left forearm through his robes. So. He had received the Dark Mark. Suddenly, Severus was feeling nauseous. He had never wanted to take it, and the only way he possibly would have, is if his father had forced him. And the only way for his father to force him, would be to use his mother and niece against him... Severus hurriedly cut off that stream of thought. Perhaps, he mused, there were advantages to having lost his memory after all.  
  
Dumbledore had taken up the narrative again, and Severus gratefully turned his attention back to that.  
  
'When next I saw you, you were coming to me for help. You told me you had been coerced into becoming a Death Eater and wanted no part of it any more. You willing underwent interrogation under the influence of Veritaserum, and I determined that you were sincere in your wish to have nothing further to do with Voldemort.  
  
'I convinced you otherwise.' Severus started. Dumbledore was looking grim and weary, 'I convinced you to be my spy in Voldemort's inner circle, even knowing how much it was killing you. You agreed and returned to Voldemort's side. You saved countless lives with the information you passed on.'  
  
Dumbledore paused and glanced at Potter, 'You bought the Potters time.' Severus saw the Potter-boy pale out of the corner of his eye and he realised the boy's parents must be dead. Dead at the hand of Voldemort. Whom he had been spying against. In some vain attempt to prevent murders such as James Potter's must have been.  
  
Dumbledore hurried on, drawing Severus's attention from Harry Potter.  
  
'In an attack he under took personally, Voldemort was seriously weakened. Many believed, dead. You were pardoned at my insistence and came here to assume the position of teaching Potions. Here you remained.'  
  
Severus noted that Potter seemed to be reliving some awful memory as Dumbledore spoke, but the headmaster paid him no mind, perhaps giving him the privacy to work through it. Severus ignored him too, concentrating instead on Dumbledore's tale.  
  
It was odd to listen to someone telling him how he had spent the last twenty years when he had no recollection of the fact that twenty years were missing in the first place.  
  
'You lead a relatively peaceful existence here until six years ago. That year was the first year of schooling for one Harry Potter,' Dumbledore inclined his head in the other boy's direction, 'Incidentally - or perhaps not so - that was also the year that Voldemort made his renewed presence felt in the world. Right here at Hogwarts, in fact.  
  
'There is too much detail from your involvement in the next five years to recount in one sitting. Suffice it say, for now, you were active in the renewed fight against Voldemort. The war came to a head just this last month past. Just days ago came the final decisive battle. Voldemort is dead and we have won the war; all that remains now is cleaning up the remaining Death Eaters.  
  
'I cannot tell you of your involvement in that last fight. Only Harry can, as he was the only witness to your actions.'  
  
Potter shifted in his seat beside him and Severus glanced at him. His face was pale, but he was composed as he began to speak, taking over the tale from Dumbledore.  
  
'I can't tell you much. I wasn't paying much attention to you.' He smiled wryly, 'I was more interested in what Voldemort was doing than my Potions Professor who had already saved my life at least once.'  
  
Severus all but gaped at him. He had saved Potter's life? Why would he do a thing like that?  
  
'Anyway, right at the beginning of the battle, I saw Voldemort moving off toward the Forbidden Forest. He was alone. I followed him in. I'd only been following him for about ten minutes when I realised *I* was being followed as well. I turned around and saw you some distance behind me.  
  
'I ignored you after that. I had to concentrate on Voldemort and what he was doing. Hours later - and I do mean *hours* - Voldemort stopped in the middle of a clearing and turned to fight me. I don't know how long we fought for. It doesn't really matter. Eventually Voldemort hit me,' he snorted self-deprecatingly, 'with a full body bind. I couldn't break it. Voldemort was too powerful and I was too tired.'  
  
'Anyway, the upshot of it all is Voldemort had me bound and right where he wanted me. He took out this vial of potion - a bright blue one - and he cast at me with some sort of incantation. I thought for sure it would hit me. But then you were there, between me and the... whatever. It your shield instead and some of it rebounded in Voldemort's face before finally breaking through and hitting you as well.  
  
'I realised I was free of the body bind. I didn't stop to see if you were okay; I attacked Voldemort.' Potter was looking particularly bilious, 'Only when I was sure he was dead did I check on you. Only.... you weren't you. Or at least, not the 'you' I knew.'  
  
Potter sighed beside Severus and rubbed his hands across his face.  
  
'You wouldn't wake up either. In the end I had to carry you back to Hogwarts with me. I didn't think I'd ever be able to find the clearing again is I left you and went for help.'  
  
Severus sat there in stunned silence. He couldn't believe he'd gone up against Voldemort - the most feared wizard in a hundred years - to save the son of James Potter, the bane of his schooling years. Although, the way things were shaping up, it seemed *Harry* Potter would have the privilege of being the bane of Severus's seventh year.  
  
Dumbledore was regarding Severus over the top of his half-moon glasses.  
  
'So know that you have a general outline of your life for the past twenty years, do you have any questions you which to ask, Mr Snape.'  
  
Severus had plenty. But he didn't want to ask Dumbledore for the answers, and he certainly didn't want them answered in front of a Potter of any generation.  
  
'Just... one, sir. What happened to my mother and niece?'  
  
  
  
Harry started slightly. He hadn't even thought about Snape's family. Of course, he hadn't been aware that Snape *had* a family, but that was only because Harry chose to be singularly blind when it came to thinking of Snape as a human being.  
  
Dumbledore glanced sidelong at Harry before answering, at least in part.  
  
'You had guardianship of your niece Ariadne until she came of age. You sent her to school at Beauxbatons in France. She still lives there with her husband, but, as far as I know, she keeps in regular contact with you. She has naturally been informed of your well being.'  
  
Snape nodded and Harry realised that he really was worried about what had happened to his niece. It was a side of Snape that Harry and his friends had never consider might exist.  
  
'What about my mother?' Snape was staring down at his hands and, once again, Harry was having trouble reconciling this rather taciturn and confused teenager with the self-assured Potions Master who had made learning potions such a trail for the Gryffindors.  
  
'Severus, I don't think....' Dumbledore tried to say, but Snape rode over his words.  
  
'Where is my mother?'  
  
Dumbledore tried to put him off again and Harry started to wonder why, 'Severus, I think it would be better to talk about this later.'  
  
Suddenly, in a display of emotion unlike anything Harry had ever seen from Snape, the boy was standing, fist clenched white at his sides and yelling at Dumbledore.  
  
'What happened to my mother?!' Harry flinched back, shocked and he could see that Dumbledore was rather surprised as well. The headmaster gave in and answered the question.  
  
'She died seventeen years ago.'  
  
Harry saw Snape's face blanch completely white and he sank back to his seat. Harry looked away to give the boy what privacy he could. Dumbledore's voice softened and he continued to address Snape.  
  
'You and I shall have a private talk later, young Mr Snape. Right now, however, we must decide what is to be done with you.'  
  
Dumbledore sat back in chair and allowed Snape a moment to compose himself. Harry was still gazing fixedly towards Fawkes, watching the phoenix preen himself on his perch. Eventually, Harry heard Snape shift beside him and he looked back to see that the other boy had collected himself and was nodding at the headmaster to continue. Dumbledore sat forward and rested his clasped hands on his desk, gazing over them at the two teenagers opposite him.  
  
'I'm sure you both realise that it cannot get about that Severus Snape is now a seventeen-year-old boy with no way to protect himself from enemies and no recollection of who those enemies might be in the first place.'  
  
Harry nodded solemnly and in the corner of his vision, he could see Snape doing the same. They both understood that Snape's enemies wouldn't hesitate to come after him in his present condition, defenceless against them.  
  
'Mmm, I thought you would both understand. That is why, from this moment on, Severus Snape is dead to all but the three of us and select other people that will necessarily need to be informed in order to help discover a way to reverse the magic.'  
  
Both heads of black hair snapped up in surprise, but it was Harry that spoke.  
  
'Dead? But then, what about....' he gestured vaguely at the boy sitting next to him. Snape, he noted, was nodding mutely in agreement - a first and probably a last as well.  
  
'Ah! Well....' Dumbledore pulled his wand from the sleeve of his robe. With a flick of his wrist, he cast a glamour over the young Severus Snape, '... It is fortunate indeed that this young man looks really nothing like the late Professor Severus Snape.'  
  
Snape was sitting there, staring blankly ahead. Harry was sitting there, gaping blankly at Snape.  
  
'Mr. Potter, let me be the first to introduce you to our newest student, Mr Seven De Marcos.'  
  
Harry realised his mouth had fallen open and he shut it with a snap. But, he maintained it was excusable. Sitting in the seat previously occupied by a younger version of Severus Snape was an entirely different young man.  
  
Most notably, he now had dark auburn hair, longer than it had been, falling to his shoulder blades. His skin was shades darker, set in a golden-cream tone. All in all, Harry realised, the changes weren't that many. But coupled with the immature body and the fact that no one had seen the seventeen-year-old Severus Snape in twenty years, this boy sitting here looked not remotely like the Potions Master Harry had known for the last six years.  
  
He was far cuter. Harry froze, then hurriedly filed that observation away in the darkest depths of his mind, hopefully never to see the light of day again.  
  
Snape - or rather, Seven De Marcos - looked up at that point and Harry was inexplicably pleased to note that his eyes hadn't changed. They were still as black as ever. They narrowed on Harry and he realised he was still staring.  
  
Dumbledore handed Snape a conjured hand mirror and this time round, when the boy looked into it, he was most certainly aware of the change. His hand went to his hair. Dumbledore began to fill the two boys in on the details of 'Seven De Marcos's' life.  
  
'Mr. De Marcos, you are a war orphan. I know you are fluent in the French language, so we will say that you are from there. As far as anyone needs to know, I knew your father and you are now my ward until you come of age. Naturally, you will remain here at Hogwarts while we see what can be done about your condition.  
  
In the meantime, you will undertake your seventh year with Harry and his classmates. The glamour will not be affected by any counter spells but my own, but it must be renewed once a month. Anything you decided to tell the other students about your supposed life, you must be sure to inform me of to prevent any slips.'  
  
Dumbledore refolded his hands and gazed benignly at the two boys, one black- haired and one now auburn-haired.  
  
Harry mutely shook his head. He had no questions, but then all he had to do was remember to call Snape, Seven. Which could take a while.  
  
Sna - *Seven* however was staring aghast at the headmaster.  
  
'You mean I have to be a Gryffindor?'  
  
Harry grimaced and would have taken umbrage at that comment if Dumbledore hadn't been so quick to answer with a laugh in his voice:  
  
'We'll just let the Sorting Hat decide that at the feast, shall we?'  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: did anyone pick up my reference to The Sound Of Music? I couldn't resist. It's my favourite movie.  
  
*grimaces* It was a boring chapter, I know but it had to be done. Or else Sev would have been wondering around not knowing what the hell was going on. It will get better from now on, I promise.  
  
Oh, and the name Seven? I wanted his name to be able to be shortened to Sev and that's what I came up with. I swear I didn't steal it form anywhere, even though I've read another fic somewhere (I can't remember where and it's really annoying me *looks hopeful* I don't suppose any of you know what fic I'm talking about? I have a really bad memory and I can't remember what it called, who it's by or where it's posted. All I know is that I liked it. Help me if you can please.. Harry, Ron and Draco are in it as well, going by the respective names of Jamie, Wesley and Drake (I think)) anyway, what was I saying before I got majorly sidetracked? Oh yeah! I didn't steal the name, even tho I saw it else where. I had decided I wanted to use that name before I ever saw it in a fic. *whew* That was fun to say..  
  
Anyways, off now to work on another fic. Will be back later. 


	6. Chapter Five: The way the wind blows

AN: I know its been simply forever since I up-dated this story, and I'm sorry about that. I got extremely caught up in the writing of 'The Blood Connection'. That story is finished now and I have every intention of completing THIS story before I begin on BC's sequel.  
  
Now to thank the reviewers that reviewed, even though I didn't update:  
  
Deity: You probably don't even remember what fic we were talking about all that long time ago, but I actually found it again. It's archived at inkstained fingers and goes by the name of 'Memories of a time long forgotten' by Taiorami. Anyways, this chapter isn't significantly less boring, just an encounter between my two main characters.  
  
Noelerin: You'll just have to wait and see what house Sev gets sorted into. As for his niece, I'm not quite sure what will happen there just yet........  
  
Sylvanus Snape: Sorry I haven't written in so long........ Where'd I come up with the name Seven De Marcos? Have you seen that episode of Seinfeld where George comes up with great original name and then his friends use it on their baby? That name was Seven and I stole it from there. As for De Marcos, frankly, I have no idea. Or I can't remember. *shrugs*  
  
gjegje: I'm glad my story turned out to be something more interesting then sweetness and light for you. ^_^ For the sorting hat's reaction, you'll have to wait until next chapter, mm-kay?  
  
aniwda: You like my idea then? Good, in that case, I will keep writing........  
  
Katy999: *blushes - whether for the compliment or for not updating, she doesn't know* Thanks, and........ umm........ I was hijacked by my other story?  
  
  
  
Anyway, here is the long-delayed chapter five:  
  
  
  
Chapter Five: The way the wind blows  
  
  
  
Dumbledore installed Harry and Severus - Seven - in a small suite of rooms on the level below the Gryffindor Tower. There was a common room decorated in a neutral blue-gray with two desks and several comfortably overstuffed armchairs before the hearth. Well-stocked bookshelves stood between two doors that led into two separate bedrooms: one decorated in red and gold, the other in shades of blue and yellow.  
  
Harry naturally took the Gryffindor-themed room, although he didn't suppose it would matter much; he would be out of here and back into the Gryffindor Tower in four weeks anyway. He didn't understand why the headmaster wouldn't let him back in there now. When he had asked, Dumbledore had said he thought it would be too lonely for Harry to rattle around all alone in the Tower. By now, Harry knew better than to believe that.  
  
He suspected Dumbledore would like for he and Sna- Seven! - to become friends. He didn't see that happening anytime soon. Even had Harry been overly inclined to make the attempt, he would have been rebuffed immediately by Seven's still cold demeanour. Or did he mean originally cold demeanour? See, it just went to show. Harry couldn't even get his head around thinking of Seven and Snape as two entirely different entities. If, on some off chance he managed to get on a civil footing with the other boy, he would probably blow it all by calling him Snape.  
  
Harry dropped his trunk at the end of the four-poster that dominated his new room and sighed. He wished Hermione, Remus, Sirius and the Weasleys were still here. He had just come from farewelling them all in the entrance hall, and was already wishing they'd come back.  
  
Remus and Sirius had to be in London for Peter Pettigrew's hearing so Sirius's name could be cleared. Arthur and Percy Weasley had to return to the Ministry to assist in cleaning up the mess left in the wake of the final battle of the war, and Molly didn't want to see her family separated again so soon. She has tried to convince Dumbledore to allow Harry to come back with them, and, although Harry wished it were otherwise, he wasn't particularly surprised when the headmaster had refused on grounds of Harry's safety. Molly had reluctantly agreed much to the disgust of Ron and Ginny; she knew there would still be fanatical Death Eaters out there, eager to get revenge on Harry for the death of their master.  
  
Hermione was going home simply because she hadn't seen her parents since the summer previous. It had been too dangerous ever since then to allow someone so close to the Boy Who Lived to venture unprotected into the muggle world. The risk had been too high that Death Eaters would have come after her, looking to use her against Harry. So, while she didn't wish to leave Harry all alone in the empty castle, she was ecstatic about going home.  
  
Harry found it hard to begrudge her her delight, or any of the others their leaving. He just wished he could have gone with one of them. But Hermione and Ron would be back in four weeks and the moment Sirius's name was cleared, Harry knew he and Remus would be back at the school to visit him.  
  
The thing Harry found odd was that no one had commented on the strange boy Harry had been found with. At first, Harry put it down to things more personal occupying their minds. But it had been six days since the battle now, and not even Hermione had commented on his presence. Not that Harry noticed him around very often. Until today, Harry and Seven had still been sleeping in the hospital wing, under Madam Pomfery's watchful eye, but had been allowed to roam the castle during the day.  
  
Harry, naturally, had spent all his time with his friends. He got so caught up in talking and catching up and, above all, trying not to remember all the horrid things he had witnessed, that he often forgot all about the young Potions Master.  
  
But from time to time, he would look up suddenly and there he'd be, lingering in the distance, watching Harry's group. But he'd hurry away when he realised Harry had noticed him, never giving Harry a chance to do anything. Not that he knew what he would have done anyway. He couldn't exactly introduce him to his friends. They'd wonder how Harry knew him.  
  
By the time it came for Remus, Sirius, Hermione and the Weasleys to be leaving, Harry had reached the conclusion that the reason nobody had asked after the identity of the stranger was because they had no idea he existed.  
  
That, Harry had noticed, was the major difference between the adult Snape and the seventeen-year-old version. Professor Snape had imposed on any scene he was part of. Even if he was silent and still, you still knew he was *there*. It was impossible to ignore him.  
  
But Seven seemed to fade deliberately into the background. Harry felt that he had to concentrate just a little harder on Seven to see him then he did on anyone else. If Harry hadn't known the other boy was about the place somewhere, he got the sensation that he would be just as oblivious to his presence as everybody else seemed to be. As it was, Harry was hypersensitive to Seven. He was paranoid of stepping wrong with the boy, even though he wasn't the Potions Professor any more. Old habits died hard.  
  
Harry flipped up the lid of his trunk and extracted a pile of clothes. He looked around his new room for the first time, searching for a dresser. There was a faded-gold loveseat sitting in front of a small hearth. There was a broad window-seat, scattered with brightly-coloured pillows. There were two more doors, one on either side of the room. But there was no wardrobe.  
  
Harry stared about the room in consternation for a moment before deciding that one of the other doors must lead to a walk-in robe. The only question was, which one? Harry shrugged. There was only one way to find out. He headed for the closer door, the one to the right of his bed; the clothes still clutched to his chest. He reached his free arm out and tested the handle. The door swung inwards..  
  
....And Harry found himself staring at Seven across the room beyond. They both blinked. Harry shook his head and looked away, examining the room.  
  
It was a bathroom, with two doors obviously: one from Harry's bedroom, the other from Seven's. The room reminded Harry of the Prefects' bathroom, only the marble was a pale, soft gray and the bath was considerably smaller, but still with a rather large assortment of taps. There was also a showerhead on the back wall of the tub and a stack of fluffy white towels on its edge.  
  
A flicker of movement at the edge of Harry's vision caused him to start. He looked up in time to see the far door swing shut behind Seven as the other boy retreated back into his own room.  
  
  
  
Severus was tempted to slam the door behind him in disgust. Not only did he have to share a suite of rooms with Potter, he had to share a *bathroom*? It was intolerable. It was unfair, and cruel, and diabolical, and.... and hypocritical. Although.... He wasn't exactly sure how the situation was hypocritical. It had simply sounded good in the heat of the moment.  
  
The problem, Severus supposed, was that he was fuming, and he didn't really have anything to fume *at*. It wasn't Dumbledore's fault he was stuck like this. It wasn't even *Potter's*, however much he would like to be able to blame him. The only person he could rightfully blame was already dead.  
  
Thinking of death immediately reminded Severus of the conversation he had had with Dumbledore three days ago. He winced. It had been hard enough dealing with the fact that his mother was seventeen years dead. It was a thousand times harder to deal with *how* she died.  
  
His father had killed her.  
  
Dumbledore had been quick to assure him that it was entirely accidental, but Severus didn't care. What mattered was that his mother was dead at the hands of her husband. And for what? For protecting Ariadne from an undesereved beating. Severus cursed himself for not being there, no matter that he couldn't actually remember if he had been or not. The only consolation Severus could take from her death was that his father had died two days later. And good riddance to him.  
  
Severus sank dispiritedly into the wingback chair by the hearth, and gazed about his room. It wasn't green. Not that he particularly liked the colour green; it was just that that was the colour he knew the most of. His room at the Snape Manor was green, the Slytherin dorms were green.... The only nights he had ever slept not surrounded by green walls were those he spent in the school's infirmary.  
  
Severus decided he liked the blues and yellows of his new room. A change, they always said, was as good as a holiday. And soon enough he would be back in the Slytherin dorms....  
  
.... Not knowing anyone. It was odd, but he felt lonely. He didn't understand why this would be. He'd never felt the need for human company before, never known anyone he would *want* to spend time with. Usually, he looked forward to the summer holidays and the solitude they brought.  
  
Severus huffed a silent sigh. Perhaps, he thought, it was simply that he was out of his own time. Or, at least, the time he remembered. Even if he hadn't interacted with anybody in his time, he had at least known them all.  
  
Now he didn't know *any*one.  
  
Well that wasn't strictly true. It was just that anyone he knew was twenty years older than they had been last time he'd seen them.  
  
Then there were *those* two. He had seen them hanging around Potter. Doting on the son as they had pandered to the father. It was sickening really. And not just the way they acted around Potter. The worst part of it all was that Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were adults while Severus was still a teenager.  
  
Severus realised his mask had slipped and he was scowling. He didn't bother to change it, though. It wasn't like there was anyone here to see him. He'd just have to be more careful where he could be seen.  
  
Out in the common room, Severus heard a door slam. Denying to himself that he was curious about Potter, Severus left his chair and sidled up to his door. Opening it a slit, he peeked through. Potter was just leaving the common room, his broom over one shoulder.  
  
Denying vehemently that he could care less where Potter was going, Severus pushed open his door and hurried across the common room after the other boy. Keeping just out of sight, he followed the boy down the stone halls and out of the castle, across the lawns.  
  
Unsurprisingly, Potter head straight for the Quidditch pitch. Severus's footsteps slowed, the other boy disappeared between the stands. Severus didn't care. He was staring up at the towering stands, remembering the matches he had played here on this pitch. In reality, they were twenty and more years in the past, but he remembered them so vividly........  
  
He hurried through the stands and came to a halt in the concealing shadows on the other side. The pitch was so almost exactly the same: the three golden hoops at either end of the pitch still gleamed brightly beneath the sun's rays; the lawn was still a smooth and verdant green; Severus could see the green and yellow doors on the far side of the pitch that had always guarded the Slytherin and Hufflepuff dressing rooms; the spectator towers still rose into the air about the pitch........  
  
But there was one thing that Severus couldn't ignore, one thing that *had* changed from Severus's memory: The designs on the banners that adorned the stands had changed. Instead of the school's motif being repeated again and again around the stadium, each of the eight towers were decorated with the mascots of one of the school's four houses.  
  
A flicker of movement at the corner of Severus's vision tore his attention from the banners. He turned his head in time to see Potter launch himself into the air on his broom. Severus gaped at the speed the other boy reached just in his take-off. For a moment, he couldn't comprehend it, but that was before he recalled that advancements would obviously have been made in the broom technology.  
  
He watched as Potter wove himself in and out of the goal posts at one end of the pitch, his speed increasing with every turn. Then the boy shot away from the posts and arrowed to the far end of the pitch. Severus stepped out of the stands to watch him repeat his antics around the other goal posts.  
  
Severus sighed. What he wouldn't give to be on a broom right now. He didn't know who long it had been since he had *actually* flown, but it had almost three months since he *remembered* flying and he missed the sport. Being up in the air on his broom, the ground looking small and impossible far from his height had always helped to clear his mind.  
  
That, and bashing bludgers across the pitch in an excess of frustrated energy. He wondered if the Quidditch team of the house he was re-sorted into would have need of a bludger. He hoped so.  
  
Potter had disappeared from the pitch and the immediate air above it. Severus looked about in consternation. He hadn't seen the boy land, or fly off over the stands. He stepped further onto the pitch, searching the sky for the elusive boy.  
  
A whoop drew Severus's attention upwards. The infernal Potter boy was *plummeting* straight down towards the ground, making no attempt to pull himself out of the dive. Severus froze. Surely the boy wasn't trying to kill himself?  
  
But then Potter let out another whoop, and pulled up, the tail of his broom just missing the ground. Now he speed level to the pitch, straight toward Severus, and Severus still couldn't move. Potter leant back on his broom and shot into the air again, spiralling away into the sun-dazzle.  
  
Severus gaped. Of all the idiotic, reckless - Potter could have killed himself. Potter could have killed *him*.  
  
Although -  
  
Severus had to admit - reluctantly - that Potter could really fly. Better than his father, that was for sure. Not that Severus would ever admit this out loud. Then again, it could all be entirely due to the broom. Severus wouldn't know until he could get hold of a broom himself. If he could.  
  
Severus spared one last glance for Potter as the boy made a loop-de-loop at the top of his climb, and turned back through the stands, heading back up the castle.  
  
  
  
Harry came out of his second loop and stared down at the pitch below him. Ever since he had mounted his broom, he had been getting the itchy feeling between his shoulder blades of being watched. And just now, as he had pulled out of his Wronski Feint, he could have sworn he'd caught a glimpse of someone standing on the pitch.  
  
Harry shrugged, and speed down the pitch, sending his broom into a barrel- roll along the way. Whoever it was, they were gone now and so was the sensation of being watched.  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: *rubs her hands gleefully* Oh what fun I'll have with that shared bathroom!  
  
From now on, for most of the time when its Harry's POV Snape will be referred to as Seven. However, in Snape's POV, he will be referred to as Severus. Got it? Course, later on, Harry'll probably refer to him as Sev. Or maybe I'll just switch randomly as the mood of the story takes me. You'll have to forgive my inconsistency in this. I know it'll bug some people. It sure as hell would bug me, if it weren't my story. 


	7. Chapter Six: The Sorting Ceremony over a...

AN: See? I didn't NEARLY as long to get this chapter out as I took on the last one. ^_^  
  
Thanks to my reviewers:  
  
manic: Nice to see you here! ^_^ Remember, only Harry, Dumbledore and Snape know who he is........ It IS just a bit of a change from Blood Connection and I'm hoping it will be as popular........ As for Sev going to his funeral and overhearing people calling him a slimy git, you'll just have to wait and see.  
  
z: there certainly will be more interaction between Sev and Harry. Just got to figure what happens next........  
  
Frankie the Wonder Wiener Dog: thanks Frankie. More is written, tho' I can't say that it was *just* for you........  
  
Katy999: erm........ okay. I'm glad you're happy. And Sev is sorted this chapter, so I'll just let you read and find out........  
  
Mikee! Oh, it's most certainly going to be Sev and Harry getting together. I don't know who - if anyone - I might throw in on the side........ Yeah........ I just gotta get Sev a broom now........ And I would never keep you waiting too long. ^_~  
  
Deity: I only found that story again by complete chance. But it's still not finished *pouts* Thanks for the compliments and here's the next chappie........  
  
  
  
Chapter Six: The Sorting Ceremony over again  
  
Time passed, as it is wont to do. Harry and Seven settled in their rooms, and avoided as much contact with each other as possible. Which was easy when they weren't in their rooms; they had a whole huge and practically empty castle to wander about in. Harry usually wander upwards, and Seven, more often than not wandered, down.  
  
But every morning and every evening they seemed to choose the exact same time to appear in their common room. Harry would momentarily pause and eye Seven, and Seven would muster all his will and glare at Harry. This did not often have the desired effect of sending Harry scuttling, because over the years Harry had built up an immunity to the much more virulent glares rendered by the adult Severus.  
  
They did have the occasional conversation, although confrontation was perhaps the better word. These encounters were never polite chats about the weather, or how the other had slept. They all seemed to go more along the lines of:  
  
'Potter! Your bloody owl is flying around my room. She won't sit still and she won't *get* *out*!'  
  
'Probably because you haven't opened the window, Snape.'  
  
'I have damn well opened a window!'  
  
'Did you open the curtain as well?'  
  
'Just get your blasted bird out of my room!'  
  
And:  
  
'Do you have to wear that damn cloak all the time?'  
  
'Just because you're too stupid to look where you're going.'  
  
'It's an *invisibility* *cloak*. I couldn't *see* you.'  
  
'It wasn't over my *head*.'  
  
'Why the hell are you wearing it anyway?'  
  
'Like I'm going to tell *you*.'  
  
Or:  
  
'Are you deliberately *trying* to get me killed?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'You nearly flew me down on the Quidditch pitch -'  
  
'It was you watching me!'  
  
'You run me down in the corridors -'  
  
'........ you're the only one I ever run into........'  
  
'You keep on calling me Snape -'  
  
'It's your name isn't it?'  
  
'Aside from the fact that its been taken away from me, because of *you*.'  
  
'*Me*? I didn't ask you to jump in front of that spell. It's not *my* fault........'  
  
By the time the three weeks were nearly over, each was thoroughly sick of the other's company. So, naturally, neither was terribly pleased to arrive outside Dumbledore's office to see the other there as well.  
  
Harry glared at Seven and Seven opened his mouth to make some snide comment, but the gargoyle swung outwards before the words could leave his mouth.  
  
'Ah, boys! Good, you're here,' Dumbledore stepped back and gestured through the door, 'Come in, come in. We have some things to discuss before the other students return tomorrow.'  
  
Seven glared back at Harry and stepped onto the staircase. Harry resisted the urge to poke his tongue out at Seven's back. He shrugged instead and hurried up the stairs after him.  
  
  
  
Dumbledore regarded the boys across his desk. Neither looked particularly happy to be in the others company and he sighed. He'd hoped that quartering them together would bring them to some amiability. Evidently, he had been wrong. But he wasn't one to give up so easily. He'd see these boys friends yet.  
  
'Mr De Marcos,' the auburn-haired boy hesitated only a moment before responding to the pseudonym, 'We need to discuss your classes for this coming year. What two electives did you take in you sixth year?'  
  
'I took *three* electives last........ uh, in my sixth year,' Seven stumbled a little as he answered.  
  
'Three?' Dumbledore looked perplexed for a moment, 'Of course! Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't yet a subject, let alone a core one. Well, I'm afraid that you may only choose two electives for your seventh year.'  
  
After a moment of deliberation, Severus replied, 'Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes.'  
  
'Good, good,' Dumbledore smiled, 'I don't believe you'll have any trouble picking up where you left off in those classes. Potions, I'm sure you'll have no trouble with at all. Transfiguration and Charms were never really your strong suit, but you won't be much behind this year's seventh years. Astronomy and Herbology should give you no trouble. History of Magic, you'll have to catch up the last twenty years in. No, you should be fine with all those core subjects.  
  
'It's Defence Against the Dark Arts I'm worried about.'  
  
Dumbledore tapped an idle finger on his desk, regarding the solemn young man before him.  
  
Seven sighed and shifted, 'What *is* Defence Against the Dark Arts, sir?'  
  
Dumbledore blinked, 'Why, it's just that. It is a class we introduced soon after Voldemort's first up-rising. It is designed to teach the students to recognise, categorise and defend against dark creatures, dark spell, and even dark potions.  
  
'I think the best way to handle this class is to give you a tutor,' Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he turned to Harry, 'And who better to do it than our star Defence student, young Mr Potter.'  
  
Harry and Seven gaped, aghast, at the headmaster.  
  
'You can't be serious!' Seven exclaimed.  
  
'Quite,' said Dumbledore in a tone that brooked no argument. Seven subsided sullenly, but Harry didn't have the same good sense.  
  
'But Professor -!'  
  
'Now, Harry, I would like you to do this,' Dumbledore gestured airily, 'Think of it as returning a favour if you will.'  
  
Harry blinked, 'What favour?'  
  
Dumbledore smiled and Seven had awful feeing of foreboding.  
  
'You haven't been doing as well as you could in Potions, Mr Potter.'  
  
Both boys blanched.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was a mixed mood in which Harry entered the Great Hall the next evening. He couldn't remember a time when he had been more relieved that school had started again. At least his friends were back now. Which didn't mean he would be escaping the presence of seventeen-year-old Snape.  
  
After much grouching and staring sullenly at the headmaster, Harry had decided that giving and receiving tutoring with Sn- Seven wouldn't be all *that* bad. He had thought that that would be the closest he would have to get to the other boy all year; the rest of the time they could simply ignore each other. Seven would be in the dungeon dormitories with the rest of the Slytherins, and Harry would be up in the Gryffindor Tower, a whole castle between them.  
  
At least, that was what Harry had thought before Dumbledore had disillusioned him. The previous afternoon, just as he and Seven were leaving Dumbledore's office, Harry had turned back to ask the headmaster for permission to move his possessions back into Gryffindor Tower one night early.  
  
'Did I forget to tell?' Dumbledore looked extremely satisfied with himself, 'You and young Mr De Marcos will be remaining in your current rooms for the school year.'  
  
For once, both boys had been in accord when they tried to protest the arrangement, but the old wizard had refused to be swayed. Finally giving up the fight as a lost cause, Harry resolved to be out of his rooms as often as possible. At least there was no chance of Seven being sorted into Gryffindor. He hoped.  
  
Harry pushed through the milling crowd of students in the doorway towards the Gryffindor table, searching for the familiar heads of his best friends. He didn't spot them until most of the students had taken their seats and he could see through the crowd. Ron and Hermione were standing on the far side of the table, searching the thinning crowd.  
  
Harry raced around the table, 'Ron! Hermione!'  
  
The pair turned and saw him, 'Harry!'  
  
The trio barely had time to greet each other before Dumbledore was calling the hall to order, and the Sorting Hat was brought out. The thunderous applause that greeted each sorting prevented Harry, Ron and Hermione from talking, but it seemed no barrier for the murmurs that began to reach Harry's ears around the time Professor McGonagall reached 'S' on her list.  
  
'Look!'  
  
'At what?'  
  
'Over there! Behind the first years.'  
  
Harry looked, and so did everyone else that heard the whispers. Lurking in the shadows behind the first years, Harry could see Seven. He did not look happy to be there, and Harry supposed he would have preferred a private Sorting.  
  
'Who is he?' an anonymous boy asked.  
  
'Whoever he is, he's cute.'  
  
The girls tittered and for some unknown reason, Harry bristled.  
  
Ron leant close to his ear and said, 'I wonder who he is.'  
  
More interested in trying to figure out which girl had spoken, Harry answered absent-mindedly, 'That's Seven.'  
  
Ron look baffled and Hermione, who had only overheard Harry's answer and not the original question said, 'Seven what?'  
  
Harry still had only half a mind on what he was saying as he replied, 'De Marcos.'  
  
Hermione blinked at him and Ron furrowed his brow, 'What's a de marco?'  
  
'Huh?' Harry quickly ran back over the conversation in his head, 'No Ron! His name is Seven De Marcos.'  
  
'Oh,' said Ron.  
  
Then: 'What kind of a name is Seven?'  
  
At that moment, Dumbledore stood, and Harry forgot to answer his friend.  
  
'I would like to say a few words before our last new student,' Dumbledore nodded in Seven's direction, 'is sorted. While I don't usually make speeches at the Sorting Feast, I feel that this year, a short one is called for.  
  
'As I'm sure you all know by now, this summer past saw the defeat of Voldemort,' - Dumbledore had to pause as the students all cheered and a wave of sound broke over the hall - 'Thanks in no small part to our very own Harry Potter and Professor Severus Snape.'  
  
The cheers were deafening this time and accompanied by much pounding on the tables. Harry turned pink and sunk lower in his chair, grateful that Ron and Hermione were sitting on either side of him. Hermione leant over and shouted through the din, 'You didn't tell us Snape helped you.' Harry just shook his head at her.  
  
When the cheers had finally subsided again, Dumbledore continued, 'Unfortunately, Professor Snape will not be taking Potions this year. He is no longer with us.'  
  
There were several gasps, but for the most part, the students were appropriately quiet and solemn. Not matter how much they didn't like Snape, they'd never expected him to *die*. He was too much of a fixture at Hogwarts.  
  
'Professor Philtre will be teaching the Potions classes and Professor Sinistra has taken over as head of Slytherin.' Dumbledore paused and bowed his head for a moment and Harry wondered why, exactly, it was being put about that Snape was *dead*.  
  
'And now I shall introduce you to our new seventh year student,' Dumbledore beckoned Seven forward and the boy reluctantly emerged from the shadows, 'Mr Seven De Marcos comes to us from a private school in France........'  
  
  
  
Severus wished nothing more than to turn and flee the hall. He hated people looking at him, he hated being the centre of attention. And they were all staring at him. Severus imagined he could feel one particularly potent set of eyes on him, but he refused to turn his head and meet the green gaze.  
  
Instead, he walked as slowly as he could up the hall, not looking forward to putting that hat on his head for the second time in his life. He tuned out Dumbledore's voice relating to the school his false history and focused on the hat in front of him. He'd be damned if he'd let the tatty old thing dictate his life.  
  
Severus had reached the end of the hall and was staring down at the hat on the stool. Both it and the stool it sat on seemed so much smaller now. Last time he had stood here, the stool had reached his waist and the hat had engulfed him to his nose.  
  
Now, as he sat, he didn't need to hitch himself onto the stool at all, and the hat fit almost perfectly. He closed his eyes and emptied his mind. There was no way he was going to help the hat along.  
  
'Hmmm........' the hat murmured in his ear, 'I remember *you* Severus Snape. Back to be sorted again, eh? Highly unusual, that.'  
  
Severus ignored the voice and stubbornly thought of nothing.  
  
'You've cunning aplenty, but courage too. And a nice, orderly mind. But not much patient. No, Hufflepuff is certainly not the house for you. Never was.'  
  
Severus snorted softly  
  
'Let's see then. Last time I sorted you into Slytherin. And you're still cunning and ambitious. Yes, you'd still do well in the Snake House........'  
  
*Not -* Severus clamped down on the involuntary thought. He refused to influence the hat in any way. He wanted to be sorted *properly* this time.  
  
'Not what?' whispered the hat, 'Not Slytherin? But you've done so *well* there.'  
  
Severus gritted his teeth.  
  
'Hmmm. Well, in that case, I thing I'll put you in RAVENCLAW!'  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
AN: I'm not sure I like this chapter very much. But the story doesn't seem to be following as well as I would like........ Any suggestions would be welcomed........ 


	8. Chapter Seven: Welcome to the House of t...

AN: I could spout all kinds of excuses about how I haven't had TIME to write (and most of them would be true) but really, I've just had trouble getting this chapter out. This story just isn't flowing as smoothly as it should. So I'm going to say here: If ANY of you have any ideas about how exactly I should go about getting Harry and Sev together, I'd really appreciate them. Cuz I want to get them together fairly soon. Yeah, well, thanks. *L*  
  
Reviews, reviews, lovely reviews! Or at least, replies to reviews.  
  
Lee Lee: Hello! Glad to see you at this story. Loving yours by the way. Ooo, the bathroom. That will certainly play a part in getting them together........ hehe. I LIKE my ideas for this fic. At all costs, I promised myself I would finish it, Blood Connection sequel, or no Blood Connection sequel. lol  
  
manic: Oooo. Lots of compliments! ^_^ Thank you! Erm, must say that I'd kinda overlooked the whole werewolf thing being still so fresh for Sev. Thanks for reminding me. And may I ask what's so bad about Sev in fishnets? Maybe I'll put him in them for the hell of it...... *L* Lots more exploration of Sev's background and the differences between Sev 1.0 and Sev 2.0 will come up, just not in this chapter. ^_^  
  
Katy999: Me? Prompt with updating? Do you really think so? *L* Not in this story, but anyway....... You didn't pick Ravenclaw? ^_^ I didn't really want to put him back in Slyth, and Gryff would be too much of a jump for his character....... And could you imagine Severus Snape as a Hufflepuff? Must read your story.......  
  
Mikee! ^_^ Dumbledore? Playing matchmaker? Never! ^_- *sighs* Severus and Harry is my favourite match. And, yeah, Gryffindor's been done and that'd make Sev ooc anyway. Anytime with the stories. I love seeing your reviews up on the screen.  
  
Silver Angel: Oh, yes there's pairings! Sev and Harry for one. I don't know if or how Ron and Hermione will get with.......  
  
Futon: *nods her head and agrees* precisely. Erm, sorry bout that. *L* Let's just say that the hat won't put a student where they REALLY don't want to go. Like Harry.  
  
M. F. Luder: Of COURSE I remember you! Erm, no sequel JUST yet. ^_^ Unfortunately, I think I need a remembrall. In other words, I don't remember what it is I forgot. I put him in Ravenclaw because I think it's too big a change to go from Slytherin to Gryffindor. I think Ravenclaw suits Sev better. And I didn't want to make it too pat by putting him in the same house as Harry. Does that answer your question? Good luck pretending to study. ^_^  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven: Welcome to the House of the Eagle  
  
  
  
Ravenclaw?  
  
Severus pulled the Sorting Hat from his head and stared at it. Well that was unexpected. But he wasn't disappointed. It wasn't like he *wanted* to be sorted back into Slytherin House, it was just that he hadn't thought he'd changed enough to be sorted differently. Expect in his desire to have nothing further to do with the students of that house.  
  
Was it as simple as that then? The hat wouldn't sort a student where said student didn't want to go? He'd never heard of that happening with anyone else.  
  
Severus stood, turned, and placed the Sorting Hat on the stool. As he turned back, Professor Dumbledore caught his eye and smiled at him. He didn't even look surprised that Severus hadn't been sorted back into his original house. Severus ignored the expression and turned away.  
  
And noticed the cheering Ravenclaw table.  
  
That was new. Nobody ever cheered Severus Snape. Severus blinked. Then he sighed and remembered that, as far as anyone was concerned, he was Seven De Marcos and Severus Snape was dead. The Ravenclaws were only cheering because theirs was the house that now boasted the new, mysterious student.  
  
As Severus moved toward the Ravenclaw table, he glanced toward the far side of the hall. All he got was the impression of watching eyes. One pair in particular stood out: that infernal green gaze of the Potter boy.  
  
Severus sneered and looked away again, ignoring him. He slid into an empty seat at the Ravenclaw table and smiled stiffly at the other students. A boy, the badge on his robe proclaiming him Head Boy, leant over and held out his hand.  
  
'Terry Booth. Pleased to meet you.'  
  
Severus took the hand and shook it solemnly, 'Seven De Marcos.'  
  
The Ravenclaws within hearing range blinked. A girl several years younger than Severus piped up, 'You don't have an accent!'  
  
Severus regarded her solemnly, 'Should I?'  
  
Terry cleared his throat, 'Dumbledore said you were from France........'  
  
'I attended school there, yes, but my parents were English and I spent many holidays here in Britain.'  
  
The Ravenclaws smiled and relaxed, Severus's lack of an accent explained satisfactorily. Severus's lip curled ever so slightly in contempt. No Slytherin would have accepted that explanation so blithely. It was too pat. But Ravenclaws only looked as far as the first explanation that fit all the obvious facts. None of them had even bothered to ask why he wasn't finishing his schooling at the French school he had attended until now. Severus wasn't about to volunteer the information, even if it were fake.  
  
He smiled emptily at them all and bent over his newly filled plate. For a time, the only sound at the table was the clinking of cutlery as the others all addressed themselves to the feast. But the Ravenclaw curiosity wasn't stifled for long.  
  
A middle-eastern girl on the other side of the table introduced herself as Padma Patil and asked, 'Did they play Quidditch at your school?'  
  
Severus ran his regard over her, taking note of the badge she wore proudly. Instead of answering, he said, 'You are the Ravenclaw team captain.'  
  
Padma smiled and nodded, 'So do you play then?'  
  
Severus paused and toyed with his peas, 'I........ used to.'  
  
The boy beside Padma nodded sagely and asked, 'What position?'  
  
Severus regarded them for a long moment before replying warily, 'Beater.'  
  
Padma perked up, 'Really? Fantastic! One of our beaters, Niva Mamor graduated last year. You can try out.'  
  
Severus stabbed a carrot viciously, 'I don't have a broom.'  
  
Beside him, Terry waved his hand airily, 'Don't worry about that. I'll talk to Professor Flitwick. He's our house head. He'll work something out.'  
  
Severus nodded and cast Terry a stiff smile. He wasn't used to kindness.  
  
Padma and Terry had tried to steer Severus towards the Ravenclaw common room after the feast, but he had shaken them off, telling them that his guardian - Professor Dumbledore - had deemed that he should have separate quarters. For once, Severus was relieved that he was stuck in the apartment with Potter. At least it didn't mean going back to his house common room, where he just knew the students would start prying into his life.  
  
Terry blinked at him and nodded. He gave Severus the password and directions to the common room, should he ever need to go there and told him that he and Padma would meet him for breakfast. Severus stretched his lips in a false smile again and wondered why he was making such an effort to appear amicable.  
  
He shook his head and turned his feet toward the base of the Gryffindor tower. For some reason, he'd never felt more out of place - or time - than he had tonight, sitting at the Ravenclaw table. At least, had he been sorted back into Slytherin, he would have known who to deal with the students.  
  
Severus sighed and set his hand upon the out-stretched palm of the statue of Beautten the Brash. The statue half-bowed in his direction and stepped aside, revealing the door to the common room he shared with Potter. Professor Dumbledore had decided that, instead of having passwords to remember and change each week, the two boys would have a simpler and more secure lock on their door. The status only responded to the touch of Severus, Potter, Dumbledore himself, and the touch of their respective heads of house.  
  
Severus stepped past Beautten the brash and was tempted to slam the door behind him. He didn't. Potter and Professor Dumbledore had reached the room before him.  
  
'Ah, Mr De Marcos,' Dumbledore smiled, 'Just the young man I wanted to see.'  
  
Severus sneered when Potter claimed one of the hearthside chairs, making it clear that he intended to stay, despite the fact Dumbledore's presence had nothing to do with him. When the other boy noticed the sneer, he gave a credible imitation of it and deliberately looked away. Severus let his lip curl further before he too turned away.  
  
He looked steadily at Professor Dumbledore, not bothering to say anything. Dumbledore would get around to why he was here faster if Severus didn't speak. Dumbledore smiled benignly and gestured to the desk Severus had appropriated as his own. There was a pile of brown paper parcels on it.  
  
Severus moved over to his desk and fingered the top parcel. He pulled the string lose and let it and the paper slid open.  
  
'Your new robes,' Dumbledore spoke beside him, 'There are vests and ties as well, all with the Ravenclaw insignia.'  
  
Severus nodded and let his fingers caress the cool silk of a blue and white tie. His hand dropped back to his side and he turned to look at the headmaster, knowing that this could not be the only reason he was here: he could easily have had the house elves deliver the robes.  
  
Dumbledore gestured him back to the centre of the room and the torches flared brighter. The old wizard took Severus's chin in his hand and turned the boy's head, closely inspecting his features.  
  
'Hmm, yes,' he murmured and touched a lock of hair that had slipped from the tie at Severus's nape, 'It seems to have held up well.'  
  
Severus's black eyes narrowed as he recalled that his glamour needed renewing. From the corner of his eye, he could see Potter sit forward in his chair, eagerly watching the pair in the centre of the room.  
  
Dumbledore released Severus's chin and took a step back. Withdrawing his wand from the sleeve of his robe. As the headmaster gestured, Severus felt a slight tingle over his skin that he hadn't noticed the first time. He glanced down at his hand in time to see it flicker pale skinned before settling back to the warm golden tone Dumbledore had disguised it as.  
  
'There,' Dumbledore tucked his wand away again, 'that should suffice for another month. If you would kindly come and see me Sunday four weeks hence, I shall renew it again.  
  
'Now I suggest you boys,' he turned his head, including Harry in his directive, 'make an early night of it. It's the first day of classes tomorrow.'  
  
Both boys nodded and Severus turned to watch the headmaster to the door. Halfway there, Dumbledore paused and turned back.  
  
'Ah. Before I forget, Seven, I understand that you have been invited to try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.'  
  
From nowhere, there appeared a broom in his hand. Severus heard Potter gasps behind him.  
  
'I believe you will require one of this,' Dumbledore held out the broom to Severus, who took it gingerly. He could feel it warm and vibrating in his hand. The first genuine smile of the evening crept unwelcomed onto his face and he looked up to thank his guardian.  
  
Dumbledore was gone already.  
  
Instead, Severus found Potter hovering off to on side, gazing hungrily at the broom Severus clutched.  
  
'That's a Golden Nimbus,' he stated in an awed whisper.  
  
Severus made a non-committal sound, not knowing the significance of the broom. Though, judging by the avid expression in Potter's green eyes, he supposed the broom must be one of the more coveted brands of the current day.  
  
Severus glanced down at the broom. The broom *was* golden, almost the same warm shade as Severus's glamoured skin. The line of it was smooth and graceful, the bristles trimmed and sleek and when Severus tentatively released it, the broom hovered at the exact height for mounting.  
  
Severus smirked at Potter, who drew himself up.  
  
'Of course, my broom is just as good. It's a Firebolt.'  
  
Severus snorted softly and retrieved his broom from the air. He took and settled it reverently in the broom-rack beside the common room door. Potter's sleek racing broom with its decal of 'Firebolt' already resided there. Severus turned back to find those green eyes on him again.  
  
'What are you staring at, Potter?' Severus snapped, sneering the name.  
  
Potter narrowed his eyes, but otherwise ignored the tone; 'You play Quidditch?'  
  
He sounded incredulous and Severus defensively replied, 'And so what if I do?'  
  
Potter shrugged and looked away, 'It's just that you were always so........'  
  
He stopped.  
  
'So *what*, Potter?'  
  
Potter sighed and shook his head a little, 'Nothing.'  
  
Severus regarded him silently for a moment, then turned back to his desk and picked up the parcels of robes. Without looking at the other boy again, he headed straight for his room. But something made him pause on the threshold and he looked back.  
  
Potter was *staring* again.  
  
Severus sighed and snapped, '*Now* what are you staring at?'  
  
Potter shrugged and flushed slightly, but he didn't break eye contact, 'I........ I'm glad you weren't sorted into Slytherin again.'  
  
Severus blinked. What........ why would Potter say that? What made him think Severus *cared* what he thought. What gave him the right to.......?  
  
'I'm glad, too,' Severus murmured and black eyes stared straight into green for a long moment before they both blinked and looked away. Severus quickly shut his bedroom door behind him, and moments later, he heard Potter's door open and close as well.  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC 


	9. Chapter Eight: The problem with spells

AN: Oookaaay. My Muses attacked me in the middle of the night with the idea for this chapter. Of course, they had a little help from xikum, who reminded me that Severus had actually started school knowing a lot of curses (at least according to Sirius). But nobody ever said anything about the counter-curses........ Heh. Anyway. As I said, my muses forced this one on me. But it was fun to write (once I got past the first part) Forgive me if it is a little crass.  
  
Sorry it's taken a while to get this up. Hopefully from now on, the story will follow better.  
  
Now to thank my lovely reviewers:  
  
xing@fanfiction.net: Sure, I'll tell you. WIP stands for Work In Progress. Just means that the story isn't finished yet..........  
  
Vita Brevis: *blushes* thank you. I do try to only write something that I haven't seen before.  
  
Lee Lee Potter: I don't really believe that Sev's so much a crab as he is defensive. And yes, that was an almost civil moment they had. 0_0  
  
Pervert Bitch: The slashiness will take just a little bit longer to get here, sorry. And yes, I couldn't see Sev as a Gryffindor. I do have my reasons for not putting him back into Slytherin, but I don't really want to explain them right now. Sorry, I'm feeling lazy. Ask me again later.  
  
Silver Angel: I think Ravenclaw should suit Sev pretty well....... And what exactly do you mean by slip-ups? Let on that he was actually a Slytherin? I don't know yet.  
  
Meaghan: Heh. A review for my first chapter. I have no idea why it's from the point of view of that crow, but yeah.  
  
xing@fanfiction.net: (again) erm........ I have to ask. Do I know you as someone else? Cus I just went back through my reviews and although I can't remember the names that were there, I know it wasn't xing. Anyway, to your review: *shakes her head sadly* I just figured out what the hell is going on....... To some extent. From memory, this is Mikee reviewing here? Yes? For some reason, all unsigned reviews are turning up this nick.  
  
Anyway: Hmmm........ you may have something there with the broomstick accident. I'll be keeping it in mind. And you're totally right about all the other ones. Can not use ANY of them........ I'm not sure even Dumbledore knows who has saved the other's life the most times........  
  
xikum: ermm....... first off: thanks for reminding me about "knowing more curses than any 7th year when he started as a first year". I'd kinda forgotten. But I think I managed to find my way around it ^_^. I've yet to decided whether or not Sev stays young. Depends on how it turns out between him and Harry. And who really knows about Harry's real grades in potions now that Sev is seventeen again. I guess we'll just have to find out........ Oh, and thanks for all the compliments on my stories and writing. Can never get enough of them. *L* If I told you where I got my ideas, you'd probably put me out of business.  
  
Another xing@fanfiction.net: You like my young Severus? Thank you. Can't be too sure about how in character he is. I only have the reactions of my readers to gauge against. Heh. And yes, the chemistry is there between Sev and Harry. And things should be heating up soon........  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight: The problem with spells  
  
  
  
It didn't surprise Harry, come Monday morning and the timetables at breakfast, to discover that this year Gryffindor would be taking their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes in the company of the Ravenclaws. He only wondered if Dumbledore had known all along that Seven would be sorted into that house.  
  
Nor was Harry surprised to walk into the DADA classroom that afternoon and find Dumbledore sitting behind the teacher's desk.  
  
But he started to get annoyed when Dumbledore assigned the students seats. Naturally, he found himself sitting on the far side of the classroom from his best friends, next to Seven De Marcos.  
  
Harry edged as far to one end of the bench seat as he could without falling off. On the other end, Seven did the same. Neither of them was amused by the Headmaster's obvious machinations. They glared at each other, then pointedly ignored their desk partner.  
  
Until, that is, Dumbledore announced the class assignment.  
  
Then they just stared at each in horror. It wasn't enough that they shared rooms, were forced to sit next to each other, that they tutored one another........ Dumbledore had to take it that one step further and make them *work* together.  
  
"You'll only have one assignment in Defence Against the Dark Arts this year," Dumbledore said, and the whole class smiled, "You will be required to select a rare Dark curse to investigate. You will research its history and development and its effects. If it does not already have a counter- curse, you will - to the best of your ability - devise a solution. If it does, you will research *that* and suggest modifications and improvements."  
  
The class, in unison, groaned. Even Hermione and the more dedicated Ravenclaws looked dismayed at the complexity of the assignment. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.  
  
"You'll note that I've seated each of you next to a student from the other house. This person will be your co-author on the assignment. You will work with them to select, research and write up your topic."  
  
Dumbledore smiled at Harry and Seven and winked subtly. No prizes for guessing what he expected them to choose.  
  
  
  
Ever since the DADA class that afternoon, Harry's mood had been........ not light. At dinner he glared at Seven's back and stabbed viciously at his meatballs. Beside him, Ron winced. Harry snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
Both of his friends knew better than to try and talk to him when he was in a mood like this. If he answered them at all, all they would get would be sarcasm. They didn't even try to convince him to show them his new rooms after dinner. Instead, they gave him a cursory goodnight and hurried off to the Gryffindor Tower, leaving Harry to trudge up to the statue of Beautten the Brash by himself........  
  
Just in time to meet Seven coming from the other direction. They took a moment to stare at each other before turning at the same time to open the door. Seven was just a fraction slower than Harry, and his hand came down on top of the Gryffindor's.  
  
They both immediately snatched their hands back as though they had touched fire.  
  
Stood staring at each other for another moment before Harry tentatively put out his had again to unlatch the revealed door. It swung silently open and both Harry and Seven went to enter at the same time. Their shoulders caught in the door. After a brief struggle, they broke free and stumbled into their common room.  
  
Harry glared, Seven sneered, and two doors slammed behind them as they stormed off to bed.  
  
  
  
The next evening, Harry was in a better mood as he returned to his room after dinner, but he had still put off showing it to Ron and Hermione. The weekend would be soon enough, he decided. He saw Seven walking down the corridor in front of him, and made no move to catch up to him. The statue of Beautten was already half closed by the time he reached it. It paused, looked at him and sprang open again.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes at it, stepped through the still-open door it concealed, and side-stepped quickly to avoid running into Seven. The other boy was standing not a foot inside the door, looking at the common room's newest addition.  
  
Between and slightly in front of the two desks at the far end of the room was a table with a long padded bench drawn up to its far side. The table was broad and roomy enough to accommodate two people to a side. On its surface where two piles of books, two stacks of blank parchment and two quills and bottles of ink. Even from here, Harry could read the titles of the books: one stack contained potions texts, the other dealt with Defence Against the Dark Arts.  
  
Seven cast Harry a sidelong glance. Harry caught it and grinned.  
  
"Do you think Dumbledore could be trying to tell us something?" he asked wryly.  
  
Seven snorted and crossed the room to his desk. He opened a drawer and removed a book. Turning, he took a seat on the bench at the new table.  
  
"Considering we haven't yet had a potions class, I suggest we start with Defence," he said, opening his book.  
  
Harry stared at him. Seven looked up at him and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Well?" he snapped, and Harry was reminded of the man this boy should be, "I haven't got all night to waste, Potter."  
  
It was Harry's turn to snort as he retrieved his DADA notes from his desk. Just as he turned back, Dobby the house-elf popped into the room, balancing a tray. He beamed when he saw Harry and tottered over to the new table.  
  
"Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is hearing from Professor Dumbledore that you is tutoring," he beamed again and pushed Seven's book aside to make room for the tray, "So Dobby is thinking then, Harry Potter should have refreshments. So Dobby made some and brought them to you, Harry Potter, sir!"  
  
Seven dove after his book as it slid of the edge of the table. As the other boy opened his mouth to snap at the house-elf, Harry jumped in quickly, "Er, thanks Dobby. That's really great. Just what we needed."  
  
To prove his point, Harry snatched a glass full of pumpkin juice from the tray and drained it in one go. Seven rolled his eyes at him, but Dobby looked overcome with gratification.  
  
"Dobby brought yous ginger snaps and treacle tarts, too," the little elf enthused. Harry could tell he was ready to keep on talking as he always did, and forestalled any more words. He smiled at Dobby and sat down, deliberately opening his book.  
  
"Thanks Dobby. I'm sure it'll help us to study........" Harry left the sentence hanging meaningfully. Fortunately, Dobby got the broad hint.  
  
He bobbed his head, causing his large ears to flap, said "Thank *you*, Mr Harry Potter, sir," and popped out, leaving behind an amused Harry and a bemused Seven.  
  
"You *know* that creature?" the auburn haired boy questioned, a little stunned.  
  
"He's my friend!" Harry defended, and poured himself another glass of pumpkin juice. He drained half of it before continuing, "Besides, he means well."  
  
Seven just grunted something and opened his book, "So what is you're meant to be able to teach me about this 'Defence Against the Dark Arts'?"  
  
Having never tutored someone before, Harry decided he'd first give Seven a basic run down of the class and what it covered first.  
  
" 'The Defence Against the Dark Arts class was established in 1985, after the first defeat of Voldemort,' " Harry quoted almost verbatim, source unknown, " 'It was designed to teach the students how to recognise, categorise and combat the Dark Arts in all their guises.  
  
" 'This includes dark creatures, dark spells and dark potions........' "  
  
Harry faltered when the other boy snorted, "Er, well, I guess you'd know more about the potions than me, except maybe some of the ones that have been developed in the last twenty years.  
  
"And we don't usually start on dark creatures until the second term, so why don't we start with the dark spells."  
  
Harry opened his book to the appropriate section. Pausing to wet his throat, Harry drained the rest of the juice from his glass, then looked down at the page before him, "Well obviously most dark spells are curses, but some hexes and jinxes have been classified dark for various reasons."  
  
Harry kept his eyes firmly on his book, but he could still feel the black eyes staring at him. It was almost as disconcerting as the gaze of Professor Snape.  
  
"There is, of course, the three Unforgivables, that basically everybody knows about. They are the Imperius Curse, the -"  
  
"The Cruciatus Curse and Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. I'm not *completely* uneducated, Potter. I *have* heard of them, and, as you said, most people know what they do," Seven snapped impatiently.  
  
Harry glared at the Slyt- Ravenclaw and muttered, "None better than I."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Harry looked away, "Nothing."  
  
He shook himself and continued, "There's no real defence against any of them, so we won't worry about them for now........."  
  
Harry paused and turned a page. He exchanged his text for one of the books from the pile of Defence tomes. Dragging a sheet of parchment over to him, he dipped his quill and began to jot down spells he selected from the book. When the page was filled, he passed it over to Seven who had been staring steadily at him the entire time.  
  
"It's probably easiest if you tell me which of these spells you know so I can get an idea of where you stand."  
  
Seven pulled the parchment to him and read through the list of spells. His expression grew darker and more frustrated the further he got down the page, and Harry feared he was in for a lot of work, tutoring this boy.  
  
Seven thrust the paper impatiently away from him; "I can cast any of those curses."  
  
Harry started, "*Cast*? You're not supposed to *cast* them! You're just supposed to *know* them! You can't possibly *cast* them!"  
  
Seven took this as an attack on his abilities. Before Harry could react, Seven had his wand out and pointing at him.  
  
"*Digitalis* *demoveo*" he snarled.  
  
Harry flinched at the purple light that flared from the tip of the other boy's wand and dropped his quill.  
  
It was only when he went to pick it up again that he realized what the spell had *done*.  
  
Harry gaped down at his hands. He threw a horrified look at Seven to find the other boy smirking broadly. Harry looked down at his hands again. His........ very *fingerless* hands.  
  
"You hexed my fingers off," he accused.  
  
Seven smirked even more, "How very observant of you."  
  
Their eyes locked in a glaring match for a long moment.  
  
"Yeah, good for you, Seven. You've proved you can use a dark hex," Harry recognised this hex, remembered reading about it in his sixth year. It wasn't really very dangerous at all, just disabling; the only reason it had been classified as dark was because only the caster could reverse it, "You've made your point, now undo it."  
  
"No. I don't believe I will."  
  
Green eyes locked on black again, and they glared. Seven folded his arms across his chest in a typically Snape gesture. Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bench seat. The silence dragged on. Harry shifted again. Finally, he broke.  
  
"Come on Snape! Just bloody do the counter-curse!" he snapped.  
  
"I'd thank you not to call me that."  
  
"Ha. I doubted you'd thank me for anything. Besides, nobody's gonna overhear us here."  
  
Seven snorted, and the silence drew out for another minute. Harry shifted again.  
  
"Bloody hell, Seven, just undo it already!"  
  
"Why should I?" Seven asked, a little petulantly.  
  
"Because I need to use the toilet, you idiot. And unless you want to help, I'm going to need my fingers for that!"  
  
Seven paled a little and looked away.  
  
And it occurred to Harry -  
  
"Oh my god! You don't know the counter-curse, do you?"  
  
Harry saw a flush creep up Seven's cheeks.  
  
"You mean you know how to cast every spell on that piece of parchment," Harry gestured at it with his fingerless hand, "but you don't know *any* of the counter-curses?"  
  
Seven drew himself up haughtily, "My father taught me to never get *hit* by them in the first place. I've never needed the counter-curses."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. And this was the guy that had been lusting after the DADA position for years?  
  
"Yeah, well, you've damned us now," Harry slouched on the bench.  
  
"You mean the great Harry Potter, star pupil of Defence, doesn't know the counter-curse?" Seven sneered.  
  
Harry growled, "I may not *know* it, but I know where to find it."  
  
"So what are you still sitting here for?"  
  
"Did I not mention I needed to use the facilities?" Harry snapped.  
  
Seven sneered again - the one thing that he could just as well as Professor Snape ever had, "Would you like me to hold your hand?"  
  
Harry would have smirked if the joke hadn't been as much on him as on Seven, "No, but you're going to open the doors and undo my fly for me."  
  
Seven's head snapped up, "WHAT?"  
  
Harry did smirk now. He held up his deformed hands, "It's your own fault."  
  
Harry rose and headed for his bedroom. He turned at the closed door and stared pointedly at Seven until the other boy reluctantly rose and crossed the room to open the door for him. Harry smirked.  
  
Seven already had the door open by the time Harry reached the bathroom. The Ravenclaw was standing by the toilet, looking very uncomfortable, and suddenly Harry felt his face turn scarlet. He shuffled over to the other boy.  
  
Neither would meet the other's eye as Seven fumbled for Harry's fly. Once it was open, Harry stepped hastily away from him. The rest he was sure he could manage to do on his own, fingers or no fingers.  
  
Harry was relieved when Seven hurried out the room. Whether it was to save his dignity or to give Harry privacy, Harry didn't care. He did, however, have to call the other boy back in to turn on the taps for him and, of course, to do up his fly. Harry wasn't sure his blush would ever go away, and if his cheeks were as red as Seven's, he must have looked like a boiled lobster.  
  
Both boys ignored the incident in favour of - well in favour of *anything* really, but in this case, in favour of locating the counter-curse Harry had read of. Still fingerless, Harry directed the Slytherin-cum-Ravenclaw to his bookshelves and to the correct book. Since he couldn't remember the exact page, Seven had to leaf through it until Harry recognized the section they were after. Harry explained that only the caster could reverse the spell and was relieved when Seven managed to cast the counter-curse (*Digitalis* *restituo*) correctly and all Harry's fingers were returned, intact and in the right order. He waggled them gleefully and his sigh of relief was matched by Seven's. Harry glanced up at the other boy.  
  
"Yeah, well. Let that be your first lesson in Defence. It doesn't matter if you can identify the spell and cast the spell, if you can't *reverse* the spell."  
  
Unaccountably, both boys blushed. Without looking at each other again, they both hurried off to bed; Harry still flexing his newly restored fingers.  
  
He didn't think he'd be telling Ron and Hermione about this........ incident, come morning.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
AN: I hope I didn't offend anybody with that. Although, I'm pretty sure that is you're reading slash in the first place, you're not going to be that easy to offend.  
  
I can't actually remember if the Unforgivables were declared such AFTER Voldemort's first uprising, so in this case, they weren't.  
  
So yeah, I finally got this chapter out. Hope you enjoy.  
  
Hugs all, - Vi  
  
PS. I'm sure by now you're all familiar with the function of that little blue button down there to the left. But why not hit it anyway? 


	10. Chapter Nine: S'mores anyone?

AN: This chapter is dedicated to all my Python friends from VH. Most specifically, LC for the marshmallows and Shyri for the garlic ones. And then there's Salena, Lily and Beth, and too many others to mention here. And that's just counting the Pythons.  
  
I'm apt to change POV's randomly. I apologise. It's likely to be mainly from Harry's POV from now on, only switching to Sev's when there's something I want him to observe.  
  
This hasn't been betaed by the way, so forgive me my mistakes.  
  
To the reviews!  
  
Cosmic Reindeer: More slashy hints? ^_^ I think I can arrange that!  
  
Mikee! I think Dumbledore just might be matchmaking. Don't you just love it? I'm glad you liked my broom. And I think I've finally figured out how to get them together!  
  
Sarah: Well, Harry WAS almost put in Slytherin.  
  
xikum: .... Your reviews are always so well thought out and everything. They're a great help for inspiration. Thank you. You probably can't figure out whether or not Sev will be returned to his 'old' form because not even I know just yet. The whole magic thing: Well, I have to go into further depths about that in the assignment for DADA, so you'll just have to wait and see.  
  
Katy999: They certainly won't be researching an unforgivable. Can you say 'yawn'? Thanks for your review tho'. I like getting them from you.  
  
Lee Lee: Loving you story. ^_^ You like smart-arse Sev? I think he's funny.  
  
M. F. Luder: =P Okay, you still have me seriously confused over this home country thing. *scratches head* I'm thinking islands, but I don't quite know. It's good you weren't offended. I'd hate to lose a loyal reviewer over that chapter.  
  
Jess the Great: About the Slytherin head: Professor Vector is it at the moment. As I don't know whether or not he'll actually be changed back, I can't say if he'll be the head again.  
  
Quickjewel: Glad you found it sweet. Here's the more:  
  
Me: hello me. Ooo, I love hearing people say my work is creative. Thank you!  
  
Saavik: *L* Thank you.  
Chapter Nine: S'mores, anyone?  
On his way back from the library, Severus paused in a window aperture and gazed out over the grounds. Or he would have, had he been able to see past the rain lashing the windows. It was barely seven o'clock and already it was as black as midnight out there. Well, except for when lightening split the sky.  
  
Severus snorted. What a cliche. But it *was* a dark and stormy night. The wind tore the window open and darted into the hall. Severus pulled his school robes tighter about his shoulders. And *cold*. As he reached to push the window closed again, Severus caught his reflection in the glass. His cheeks were rosy with the chill. And then they weren't. They burnt hot as he flushed.  
  
Over two weeks after the........ er........ the........ um......... the *hexing* incident, and Severus was still resolutely not thinking about it. Or at least he was resolutely *attempting* to not think about it. It insisted on popping into his mind at the most inopportune moments. Like every morning when he went to relieve himself. And every time he saw Ha- Potter. And each time he heard Har- *Potter's* voice. Not to mention every DADA class. And at times like this: his red cheeks had reminded him of the brilliant blush both he and the Gryffindor had worn all that night.  
  
As Severus continued on his way back to his room, he spared a thought to hope that he would have the apartments to himself tonight. It was a Friday, and earlier at dinner, he had overheard H- Potter's friends speaking of meeting later that night, which gave him hope.  
  
Severus shivered again as icy fingers of damp air whispered over his exposed ears and brushed his hand across the upturned palm of Beautten. He was looking forward to stretching out on the couch in front of the fire. The statute stepped aside and Severus pushed open the door.  
  
He almost groaned as his hopes for a peaceful night were dashed. He stopped and stared at the scene before him.  
  
The red-headed Weasley boy was stretched right across were Severus wanted to lie, one arm tucked behind his head and the opposite hand clutching a long stick, charred at one end. Sitting primly at his head, in the chair Potter usually occupied was the muggle-born witch. She had a long, burnt stick in her hands too, and a brown paper bag besides. On the small table between the chairs was a tray holding several mugs more than was required for the number of people, a steaming pot of some warm beverage, stacks of biscuits, and thin slabs of chocolate.  
  
And sitting in *Severus's* armchair, right before the hearth, his stick - providing the answer to the charred ends - in the fire burning merrily in the grate, was Potter.  
  
The door thumped against Severus's heels as it swung shut and the sound attracted the attention of the trio by the fire. The four students stared at each other for a long moment. Then there was a soft hiss and Weasley turned back to the hearth.  
  
"Harry," he exclaimed, effectively breaking the tableau, "Your marshmallow's on fire!"  
  
Potter spun back to the hearth and wrenched his stick out of the hearth, the marshmallow on the end burning merrily. In the process of putting it out, he burnt his fingers and swore, causing Weasley to laugh. Granger turned to berate the red-head and Severus decided to take advantage of their distraction and slip away.  
  
He'd made it to his bedroom door before anyone noticed.  
  
"Seven!"  
  
Severus repressed a sigh and turned. The trio was watching him again: Potter juggling the burnt marshmallow, Weasley with his head tipped back over the arm of the couch and Granger twisted about in her seat to face him. It had been her that had spoken. He looked at her without saying a word.  
  
Granger smiled and gestured towards the hearth, "Why don't you join us?"  
  
Severus opened his mouth to decline, but he was interrupted.  
  
"Yeah, come on Sev. We're making s'mores!" Weasley had spun around and was now sitting up on the couch, patting the cushion next to him. Severus stared at him, aghast. No one had ever called him *Sev* before. In front of the fire, Potter snorted.  
  
Severus glared at him. Potter caught his eye, shrugged and grinned. Then the eye contact lingered a little too long and they both flushed. Potter looked hastily away. That decided Severus. He would stay just to *spite* the other boy.  
  
He looked back at Granger and nodded curtly. She smiled.  
  
Severus off-loaded his books onto his desk before moving to take the opposite end of the couch from Weasley. Unfortunately, this put him closest to Potter, who seemed to have covered. Just as Severus sat down, he heard an almost inaudible hiss, "Bet you've never been called 'Sev' before."  
  
The comment was followed by a distinct snigger, but since Potter wouldn't meet his eyes, Severus had no choice but to ignore him. He turned instead to the boy next to him, "What are s'mores?"  
  
He was the centre of attention again. It was beginning to get tedious.  
  
"You've never had s'mores before?" Weasley managed to sound horrified, affronted and amused all in one go.  
  
Severus drew himself up, "And so what if I haven't?  
  
"You don't know what you've been missing out on!"  
  
Another stick was produced from somewhere and shoved unceremoniously into his hand. He turned to see Potter doing the shoving.  
  
"Here, you need a stick to toast the marshmallows-" Granger held out the brown paper bag and Severus automatically took it, "- And then you've toasted the marshmallow, you put it on top of the chocolate and place them both between two biscuits."  
  
A slab of chocolate and two biscuits materialised in his lap, courtesy of Weasley. Severus blinked. Slowly, he drew a marshmallow from the brown paper bag and held it in one hand. He looked between the charred end of his stick and the sugary confectionery for a moment, before bringing them together and trying to get the marshmallow to stay on the end of the stick. It fell off. He tried again, only to have it fall into his lap once more.  
  
Several attempts and one mangled marshmallow later, a pair of hands appeared next to his on the stick. One hand held the stick steady, while the other plucked the sorry-looking marshmallow from it precarious perch and carried it away. Transfixed, Severus watched the hand carry the marshmallow up to soft lips. He swallowed when a pink tongue slipped out to curl around the sweet and draw it into the warm cavern of the mouth. He blinked and looked up into green eyes.  
  
Both Harry and Severus flushed, but Harry didn't release Severus's hand on the toasting stick. Harry took a new marshmallow from the bag and put it in Severus's free hand. Taking that hand in his own, he guided it to the point of the stick and helped Severus press the marshmallow firmly onto it.  
  
"You have to push it down fairly hard to get it to stay," he said, as he abruptly let go of both the stick and Severus and sat back. Severus flushed and looked away.  
  
Ron slapped him on the back, "Right, now you've got to stick the marshmallow in the fire to toast it. But don't put it in too deep, or leave it there too long, or you'll end up burning like Harry did."  
  
Severus nodded and concentrated on inserting his marshmallow into the fire. It was better than concentrating on the eyes on the side of his face, or the looks being passed between the other occupants of the room.  
  
A minute later, Severus judged the marshmallow to be toasted to perfection and he withdrew it from the flames. He burnt his fingers slightly removing the hot sweet from the stick, but he managed to put together the 's'more' with no further mishaps. He held it in his hands and looked at it. The chocolate was beginning to melt under the heat of the toasted marshmallow.  
  
He looked up and met the expectant gazes of the three Gryffindors.  
  
"Well, go on!" exclaimed Hermione, "Eat it!"  
  
Severus eyed the creation in his hands dubiously once more before bringing it slowly to his mouth and biting into it. It was one of the oddest things he had ever eaten. The milky sweetness of the chocolate offset the sugary sweetness of the marshmallow and the bland biscuits tempered to over all sweetness of them both. The texture was smooth and gooey and crunchy all in one bite. And he burnt his tongue on the marshmallow.  
  
He dropped the rest of the s'more into his lap and fanned vainly at his burning mouth. The other three laughed. Hermione poured him a mug of the hot beverage and passed it to him. It was hot chocolate. Severus sipped at it, grateful for the even heat of it.  
  
When his mouth had cooled down a little, he found the three friends watching him expectantly again.  
  
"What?"  
  
Harry smiled, "Did you like it?"  
  
Severus retrieved his half-eaten s'more from his lap.  
  
"It was........ different," he replied as he popped the rest in his mouth.  
  
The Gryffindors laughed again, and this time, Severus smiled.  
  
Ron grabbed the bag of marshmallows and mashed two onto the end of his stick. Hermione retrieved the bag from Ron and ate one un-toasted. Harry wrapped his hands around his mug of hot chocolate and brought to his lips to drink. He sighed blissfully and licked at the moustache of froth about his mouth as he set the mug back down. Severus followed his every move.  
  
Harry caught the look and blushed. He reached for the bag of marshmallows and began making his own s'more. He handed the marshmallow to Severus and Severus copied his actions.  
  
Ron had passed one of his toasted marshmallows to Hermione and they both were eating their s'mores. Ron lounged back against the arm of the couch.  
  
"I wonder what these would be like with strawberry marshmallows."  
  
Hermione grimaced, "I've had them before. It doesn't taste very nice."  
  
"You can get strawberry marshmallows?" Severus blurted.  
  
Ron turned to look at him, "Where have you been all your life? 'Course you can!"  
  
Hermione swatted him, "He'd been in France, Ron. Maybe they don't have strawberry marshmallows in France."  
  
Severus shrugged, taking the out Hermione had given him. He'd never eaten a marshmallow before this night: how was he supposed to know there were different sorts?  
  
Harry was picking apart the s'more he had just made, eating each little bit as he snapped it off, "You know, you can get chocolate marshmallows too. Aunt Petunia used to get them all the time for Dudley; they were his favourite."  
  
"Chocolate ones? Cor blimey, but they'd go well on a s'more!"  
  
"Then there's those yellow ones as well. I never did figure out what flavour they were meant to be. Maybe lemon," Hermione mused.  
  
"Or banana," suggest Harry.  
  
Severus had eaten his second s'more as he watched the by-play between the friends and was starting on his third. He decided to join the conversation, "Or squash."  
  
Ron snorted with laughter, "Hey yeah! Then they'd be like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans!"  
  
Harry, Hermione and even Severus laughed.  
  
"Maybe we should write to Bertie Bott and get him to make Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Marshmallows. Then the yellow ones could be pineapple," laughed Harry.  
  
"And purple eggplant-flavoured ones!" agreed Hermione.  
  
"Green grass-flavoured ones," said Ron.  
  
"Gray garlic-flavoured ones," said Severus.  
  
The other three looked at him.  
  
"Garlic-flavoured ones?"  
  
"Why not? You can get earwax-flavoured beans, so why not garlic-flavoured marshmallows?"  
  
"Yeah, why not? Then you could pale green peppermint-flavoured ones to clean your breath!"  
  
The flavours got steadily worse and more outrageous from there. There was pale yellow codliver oil-flavoured ones, pale-pink medicine-flavoured ones, even black tar-flavoured ones.  
  
All the while, the four students continued to make and eat s'mores, until at one point, Hermione paused and regarded the marshmallow in her hand and said, "You know, if you eat too many marshmallows, your stomach will bloat and push all your other organs aside. The marshmallows soak up all the moisture," before popping the marshmallow into her mouth.  
  
The three boys turned a little green and pushed the brown paper bag away from them, settling for their hot chocolates instead. Talk then turned to outrageous stories of illnesses that each had heard of, each more unbelievable than the last.  
  
Severus sat back for a moment, letting the conversation wash over him and watching his companions. These were Gryffindors. These three students were his rivals. He wasn't meant to be eating s'mores with them and laughing with them. He would never have been sitting her like this if he was still a Slytherin. He could never consider these people as friends.........  
  
Harry turned to address a comment to him and Severus found himself drawn back into the conversation, which had moved onto books.  
  
And as the night wore on, Severus found himself thinking: ~ I can't think why not. ~  
TBC  
AN: I know there were serious undertones when Harry was helping Severus with the marshmallow on the stick, but I did not mean them. They were unavoidable. *L*  
  
And I know I abruptly changed from Potter, Weasley and Granger to Harry, Ron and Hermione, but I couldn't continue calling Harry 'Potter' after that incident and it sounded odd to call Ron and Hermione by their last names........ 


	11. Chapter Ten: Reflections

AN: I seem to be forever apologizing for taking so long to get out the next chapter. I have only myself to blame. Or... not. I'm a staunch believer in the philosophy "Why take the blame when you can blame it on someone else?" So... I nominate Joe Blogs to be responsible.  
  
But none of that really matters at the moment. What does is that I have finished Chapter Ten, and I only have to thank my reviewers before I let you get on with reading it...  
  
LadyAlyce: Mmm... slashiness! Okay! So, I've written more. Does that mean I can be expecting my leprechaun in the mail?  
  
Katy999: Yeah, Ron and Hermione noticed something. They haven't said anything yet, but they something. Of course, the only reason they're not objecting is because they don't actually know who Seven is.  
  
Cosmic Reindeer: *L* Just for you, there's a bathroom scene in this chapter. There was going to be two, but... Hehe, and no Sev the Vampire. At least not in this story. Glad you love my story, at any rate. ^_~  
  
rhiannon: Yes, Ravenclaw was a good choice, wasn't it? Thank you for saying so. As for returning Sev to his real age, I haven't quite decided whether or not I will at the moment.  
  
Saavik: ^_^ Glad you agree with the changes in names. It's so much easier to call them by their first names. As for the flavoured marshmallows: you can in Australia, so I'm guessing you can else where as well. Good luck finding them.  
  
Lord R: O_O Thank you! I'm so glad you find my Snape believable.  
  
lillie chan: Hehe, no kissing QUITE yet, but there may just be in the next chapter. As for staying young... there's young Sev, and there's young Sev...  
  
frizzy: The relationship in this chapter between Harry and Seven develops slowly, but surely. Can't really say the same for the next chapter...  
  
xikum: Hmm, I think that flirting-thing was more Harry being attracted to Sev and just wanting to help out... Kinda a mixture of both. And no, he's never had such a... *friendly* encounter as that before.  
  
M. F. Luder: You know, I can't believe I've been so incredibly dense about your origins. I've finally figured it out now! *sighs* My parents went there last year, but they didn't take me with them. As for my story: Yeah, I'm happy with the way Ron and Hermione have been treating Sev. I just have to decide how they're going to react when the find out the truth.  
  
powergirl: Hey thanks. Just something I dreamt up in the dead of the night ages ago.  
  
Quickjewel: *rolls on the floor laughing* You know, I'm tempted to throw in super-happy Snape somewhere, just for the fun of it! But I never would. I don't like to take the characters out of character.  
  
amythest: Yes, there will definitely be more HP/SS slash! I thrive on that! And thank you for all your praise. As for Sev getting his memories back, I think I'll let you wait and see for now.  
  
samson: Hehe, I loved writing the missing fingers chapter. It was so much fun.  
  
athenakitty: Ah, questions for the ages... Let's see... Maybe, Maybe, Definitely, Most Probably.  
  
AN: One thing before I let you go, I'm not sure my characters aren't a little ooc in this chapter. In particular, Sev in the last segement...  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Chapter Ten: Reflections  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
That evening, with the marshmallows, saw Ron and Hermione beginning to accept Seven De Marcos. Harry himself wasn't too sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, Seven was human in a way that Harry had never thought Snape was. He was intelligent and flawed. He was confused, and his feelings clearly showed. His reactions to any mention of James Potter or Sirius, or even Remus, were still vicious, but since it was coming from a seventeen year old boy, Harry found it easier to tolerate. Not that it still didn't get his back up, and the pair hadn't had a few spats over Seven's opinion of the Marauders.  
  
Harry had started to notice that Seven's sarcasm was laced with an acerbic wit, and he appreciated it. And Seven was cute, but that was something Harry never noticed very often.  
  
On the other hand, Seven De Marcos was still Severus Snape, no matter which way you looked at it. Only, Harry the only one that knew that, and he was forbidden to tell Ron and Hermione.  
  
Harry decided to reserve his opinion until he had something better to go by. Instead, whenever he was with, or even near, Seven, he watched him covertly. And watching him, he began to notice things. Like the fact that he didn't often notice Seven until he moved. Often, Harry had entered their common room, and not noticed Seven sitting at his desk, or in his chair beside the fire until the other boy deliberately moved.  
  
Harry'd observed Seven's singular ability to be over looked before, in the weeks before school had resumed, but he had never given it more than passing thought. But now. Now Harry realized it was because the other boy was so unnaturally still most of the time. Every movement he made served a purpose and it served that purpose efficiently. If Harry hadn't known better, he could have sworn that Seven was a using a notice-me-not spell. It was nothing like that. It was just the stillness, and something else. Seven withdrew into himself. Or more accurately, he never intruded outside himself.  
  
Ron, like all the Weasleys, filled the room with his energy. When the red- head felt, he felt loudly enough for the whole room to notice, and Ron was always feeling. Hermione, you couldn't ignore either. Even when she wasn't talking Harry could still feel her as a soothing presence near by. Even Malfoy exuded a presence, one made entirely of his own self-importance, the belief that everyone had to be noticing him at all times. And if they weren't, he would make sure they were. But Seven.  
  
Seven was very aware of exactly where his body ended and where the rest of the world began. And he *never* extended his presence past that point unless he had a very definite reason for doing so. And he rarely had such a reason. Harry had observed him in the crowded halls between classes. The hurrying students parted around him, never bumping into him, but never once acknowledging him either. And Seven seemed to like it that way.  
  
Conversely, Harry had made himself hyper-aware of the other boy. He was always looking for him in corridors, in the Great Hall, deliberately trying to talk to him in their common room. Harry had the strange notion that if he forgot that Seven existed, so would everyone else, and the other boy would simply cease to be. And no matter how ambiguous Harry might feel towards him, he couldn't let that happen.  
  
And deliberately seeking him out, Harry noticed other things about him. His hands for one. During the Potion tutoring sessions, Harry watched Seven's hands on the utensils: the sure quick movements with the knife, the deft stirring of whatever potion they were making, the flicker of his fingers as he paged through the reference book he never really needed. Harry found himself getting easily distracted by those hands, and studied them as intently as he should have been studying the potion itself. They were long, fine, dexterous hands, capable, strong and eminently suited to the art of Potion making. They were callused from holding a knife, a ladle, even a broomstick, and Harry wondered what they would feel like brushed over skin. And promptly tried to forget that he had ever even considered that. This was, after all, still his greasy, old git of a Potions Master.  
  
Another thing Harry found himself noticing was Seven's voice, and he wondered why he never realized what a rich and mellifluous voice it was when Seven was still Snape. The first time Harry had really noticed it, he had been collapsed, exhausted, in front of the common room fire after quidditch practice. In a tired daze, he had been watching the flames dance and trying to convince himself to move when he had become aware of rich sound intruding into his stupor. It was like someone had taken a piece of sun-warmed velvet and pressed it to his cheek, caressing him with it. Harry had smiled sweetly to himself and turned his head towards the sound, trying to prolong the caress. When it had abruptly stopped, Harry had blinked his tired eyes open and found himself staring into the rather bemused eyes of Seven. He'd jumped up then, and run into his room, slamming the door behind him, still seeing the mystified look in those black eyes.  
  
Harry found himself drawn to the sound of that voice thereafter. Whenever he heard it, his attention automatically focused away from what he had been doing and onto the source of the sound. No few times had he come back to himself to find an annoyed Ron and a knowing Hermione staring at him. Hermione's eyes would flicker towards Seven and a sly smile would spread over her features and Harry was flush. But he could hardly help it if that voice called attention to itself.  
  
Like it had absurdly early one morning. Harry woke to the warm wash of that voice singing. Intrigued, he slipped from the warm cocoon of his blankets, fumbled for his glasses and crossed his room to the door from behind which the singing was coming. Closer now, he could hear that the words were Italian; the baritone of an opera Harry didn't even try to identify. Still not fully awake, and drawn on by Seven's voice raised in sensual song, Harry pushed open the door, realizing too late that it was not the common room door, but the bathroom door.  
  
The door swung inwards and a great cloud of steam billowed out with the swell of the baritone. For a moment, the hot, wet air fogged Harry's glasses and he couldn't see a thing. But the fog dissipated and Harry found himself staring at the back of a lean form. Harry froze. A naked form. As he watched, Seven threw his head back to sing the finale of the song and his hair flared backwards with the movement. Harry licked his suddenly dry lips and tried to swallow. He couldn't tear his eyes away as the other boy leant forward to retrieve the towel that had fallen of the rack and was pooled on the floor. As the strong, white back disappeared from view, Harry's gaze slipped lower and came to rest on the smooth butt displayed. Harry swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth and his hands clenched at his sides.  
  
Seven stood again and his arse disappeared behind a dark blue towel as it was wrapped around his waist. Harry dragged his eyes higher up the other's form, but still couldn't force his feet to carry him out of the bathroom as Seven flipped his head forward and vigorously toweled his hair dry with another towel.  
  
Harry couldn't even move when Seven straightened and turned, and saw him standing in the doorway. Harry's cheeks flamed red hot at being caught staring, but his feet stayed put as Seven stared wide-eyed back at him. But when Seven's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something scathing, Harry turned and fled back into his room, slamming the door hard behind him.  
  
He didn't leave his room again until he was sure that Seven had already left the apartment, and for the next three days, he went out of his way to avoid the other boy. But Seven never made any comment, and in the end, Harry decided it would be best for the peace of mind of them both if they just ignored it all together.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Severus saw Harry watching him and he wasn't sure what to make of it. It was disconcerting at first, and it was still disconcerting later. In the beginning, it had been hard to see Harry for the likeness of James. It was perturbing to think that the black haired boy behind those glasses was in fact the *son* of Severus's rival and not the rival himself.  
  
But Harry was different. More reserved; less sure of himself than James had ever been. It seemed to Severus that Harry was almost afraid to offer himself to the world for fear of being rejected. Severus wondered at that. Here was this boy that was, by all accounts, loved and acclaimed by the wizarding world, and yet he seemed so insecure about his own self-worth.  
  
Severus watched him interact with the people around him. He began to notice that he was only at ease with a select number of people and it was clear that even those closest to him - Ron and Hermione - still didn't know everything about him. Or even incredibly much about him. But what little they did know was infinitely more than anybody else seemed to know. Severus wondered how he himself had seen the boy when he had been Severus Snape, Potions Master. He found he couldn't imagine.  
  
Watching Harry in the crowded halls as the students moved from class to class, Severus saw the way the boy kept himself between Ron and Hermione, as though shielding himself from the other students. And Severus could understand why, when the younger students, the girls and no few of the boys all swarmed after the attractive young hero. Severus bared his teeth at thought of the teeming sycophants.  
  
The only time Harry ever seemed to step outside the protective flanking of his two best friends was when he was surrounded by his own year-mates - the few students in the school that seemed to even begin to see Harry for himself - or when he was confronted with Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco. If ever there was a replica of a parent, Draco was it. All silver and ivory in his beauty, and a vicious, sharp mind bent on his own self-interests, just like the Lucius Severus knew.  
  
Severus watched the clashes between Harry and Draco with avid interest. There was an angry passion in Harry's quiet responses to Draco's taunts and Severus wondered how often the two of them had actually come to physical blows. He was willing to bet that Draco had come out of them the worst. And not only because Harry was the stronger, for all that they both possessed the same slight Seeker's build.  
  
Harry was simply more. physically passionate. The energy of his bottled emotions translated itself into power and speed in his body. Severus had watched him fly. Not even James Potter had flown with the same single- minded determination as Harry did. It was as though he was fleeing some intangible thing as he rocketed through the air, twisting through maneuvers Severus would have sworn were impossible for someone who had only been flying as long as Harry.  
  
The boy did nothing so much as confuse Severus. He was a walking contradiction. He gave selflessly of himself to help others, but was closed and reserved. He was passionate, but few ever saw it. He was the epitome of the Gryffindor, but from what Hermione had told Severus of the Trio's past adventures, Harry thought like a Slytherin. But what confused Severus the most was the way Harry reacted to him.  
  
Severus saw the other boy searching with his eyes the corridors, the library, the Great Hall. And he felt the eyes linger on him for only a moment before they turned away and ceased their searching. But thereafter the eyes would peridocially return to him, as though assuring their owner that he was still there. But Harry never sought to speak to him once he had found him with his eyes, never sought to gain his attention in any way. At least, not outside their common room. Away from the rest of the school's population, Harry would try to engage him in meaningless conversation, which he always resisted.  
  
And then there was the way Harry had smiled dreamily up at him that night the Gryffindor had collapsed in front of the fire after quidditch practice. Severus had been trying to suggest Harry go to bed before he fell asleep in the awkward position he was slouched. The boy had stirred at the sound of his voice, turning towards him and smiling a smile that Severus felt should be reserved for the bedroom. He'd stopped speaking in surprise and the hazy green eyes had blinked open and stared at him for a moment. Then Harry had jumped up and fled past Severus into his room. Severus was left standing there, wondering if perhaps that smile hadn't been caused by the sound of his voice.  
  
That early morning incident in the bathroom hadn't helped any, either. Severus rarely indulged himself in singing; as far as he was concerned, he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. But that morning he had; never intending his singing to wake his flat-mate. Of course, it was possible that his singing *hadn't* woken Harry, and Severus preferred to think it wasn't. If it *had* been, than surely Harry had been standing in that doorway than he'd like to imagine. Long enough to have seen him in the buff. If, on the other hand, Harry had been woken by something else and had only just opened the bathroom door when Severus turned around, then that was okay; he'd already been wearing a towel.  
  
But the avid look in Harry's green eyes, and the rosy blush that spread itself across his cheeks suggested the former. And Severus couldn't help remembering that night he had out-smarted himself with that curse. His skin still retained the sensory memory of the soft skin of Harry's abdomen that he'd accidentally brushed with the backs of his fingers.  
  
After that second incident in the bathroom, Severus began to notice Harry on a purely physical level. The sleek muscles of the Seeker's body, the expressive green of his eyes, the rumpled black hair that gave the boy the perpetual look of having only just woken up. The hesitancy of his movements anywhere but in the air, where he was sure, deft and completely at home.  
  
Severus was vaguely troubled by his latent attraction to the other boy. Every time he found himself eyeing Harry appreciatively, he was struck by the sudden resemblance of the boy to his father, whom Severus still remembered so clearly.  
  
In many ways, Harry was just like his father - in looks, in particular: the glasses, the hair, the complexion, and the features. He possessed the same reckless Gryffindor traits: courage to the point of idiocy, self-sacrifice, suspicion of anyone remotely villainous. He was incredibly loyal to his friends and would never believe ill of them. Even his skill on a broom could be attributed to his father.  
  
But there were other things that people over-looked, things that Harry could only have inherited from his mother. Beyond the obvious green eyes, Harry had his mother's slighter build and square-palmed dexterous hands. And it went deeper too. Harry had a Slytherin twist to his mind that Severus had occasionally seen Lily exhibit. He was better in his studies than James had generally been, not really excelling in any but Defence Against the Dark Arts, but succeeding in all of them, even Potions under Severus's own tutelage.  
  
Harry was indeed the mirror image of his father. In appearance and at the surface, Harry was simply a miniature James. But like all mirror images, if you study them for long enough, you realize that, while it may appear precisely the same, it is in fact the exact opposite. Harry wasn't his father, he was the reflection of his father; the same, but reversed.  
  
And Severus wished it weren't so. He wished Harry *was* an exact replica of his father. If he had been, Severus would have been able to easily dismiss that latent attraction...  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
It was only a month after the start of school - the beginning of October - and the first time during the school year that Severus had been to get his glamour renewed.  
  
Severus stared at the mirror on the wall over Dumbledore's shoulder. The reflection staring back at him was one he'd gotten used to in the last two months. The auburn hair, the cream-tanned skin, the subtle shift in the tilt of his black eyes and the broadening of his cheek bones. Still, he missed his *own* reflection, the one he'd had for seventeen years.  
  
His vision was obscured briefly by a haze of light. When the haze thinned for a moment, he saw his old face in the mirror, black eyes no longer quite so odd framed by the lighter hair. But the haze closed in again, and when it next cleared, it wasn't Severus Snape in the mirror, but Seven De Marcos.  
  
"That's really strange to watch," Harry said, watching Severus's face avidly.  
  
Severus sighed. He didn't quite see why Dumbledore had asked for Harry to accompany him to his office. It wasn't like the other boy's presence was required for the glamour to be re-enforced.  
  
Dumbledore stood back and examined his handiwork for any flaws, "Yes, it is rather strange to see, isn't it, Mr. Potter? But can you imagine it from Mr. De Marcos's point of view. To look in the mirror and recognize only the eyes in the reflection staring back at you."  
  
Severus blinked but made no comment when Dumbledore so very nearly voiced his own thoughts. The Headmaster moved back behind his desk and sat down, regarding the two seventh year students.  
  
"But I didn't ask you two here to wax philosophical on the psychological ramifications of the long-term use of glamours. I wanted to ask how you are progressing with your Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment."  
  
Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Harry do the same.  
  
"Um..." Harry hedged, "Okay, I guess. It's really hard to find sources though."  
  
The truth was neither Harry nor Severus had even thought about that assignment since they been given it. It wasn't exactly like the topic they'd had forced upon them was the easiest to research. How did two seventh year students go about finding a curse that even the Headmaster of Hogwarts had never heard of before?  
  
Dumbledore's expression didn't change, he simply turned his sparkling blue eyes from face to face and back again.  
  
Severus sighed again. Obviously, the headmaster didn't believe them; "We haven't even talked about it yet, sir."  
  
Harry looked at him, aghast. "Seven!" he hissed.  
  
Severus addressed him without looking away from the Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes, "He didn't believe you anyway, Harry. Anybody could see that."  
  
The green gaze burnt hot in a glare on the side of his face. Dumbledore chuckled benignly and made not comment on the by-play between his two students.  
  
"Maybe I can assist you boys in finding a place to start from?" he suggested instead.  
  
Harry stopped glaring at his dorm-mate and turned to the headmaster, "Thank you sir. That'd be great, because I don't have the faintest idea where to start looking."  
  
Severus only just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Gryffindor: too stubborn to ask for help in the first place, but almost pathetically grateful when it was offered. Instead, he only said, "Thank you, Professor."  
  
Professor Dumbledore smiled cheerily and said, "Well now, why don't we start by reviewing what we already know about this mystery curse?" He gazed expectantly at the pair before him.  
  
"The potion was bright blue in colour and smelled like honey and rue," Harry offered, "And the first part of the incantation was *Kronos*. I haven't really given much time to thinking about the curse..." he trailed off, having little more to offer.  
  
Severus blinked. Something about what Harry had just said rang a bell in the back of his mind.  
  
Seeing that Severus wasn't going to add anything, Dumbledore took over Harry's thread, "We have seen the effects of the curse," he gestured towards the disguised Potions Master. "Of course, since it was intended for Harry and not Seven, it is possible that it didn't work in quite the right way. But, to all intents and purposes, it appears the curse was designed to reduce Harry's age, to turn back time, if you will."  
  
Time. Severus sat up straighter. That was it! Time... and *Kronos*! Or Chronos.  
  
"Chronos!" he said triumphantly, earning an odd look from Harry, "Of the old order of Greek gods. The Father of Time!"  
  
"The Father of Time?" Harry parroted blankly, before what Severus was trying to say sank in, "The Father of Time!"  
  
Had Severus seen his reflection at that moment, his expression would have been the match for the other boy's - Harry stared at Severus with wide-eyed excitement. "The curse reversed time on you. Chronos is the name of the Greek god of Time. The spell is Greek!" he babbled.  
  
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face, "Good," he smiled, and Severus would have sworn that, had the man been a cat, he'd be purring, "You see, boys, all you really needed to do was sit down together and think about it to find your starting point. It wasn't even particularly difficult, was it?"  
  
Severus and Harry shook their heads, feeling a little shamefaced.  
  
The Headmaster's smile widened, and he fished a piece of parchment and a quill from the clutter on his desk, "Now you have a point to start from, this should help you to find the resources you'll need."  
  
He handed the slip of parchment to Severus, who glanced at it briefly before handing it on to Harry. Harry gaped at it and looked up at Severus, who couldn't agree more. It was a note giving the pair unrestricted access to the Restricted Section of the library.  
  
Dumbledore folded his hands on the surface of his desk and leant forward, that infernal smile still on his face, "Who knows? You may even be back to your older self in time for Christmas, Severus," he said, deliberately using the young Potions Master's true name. "But not, I imagine, before forging some new relationships."  
  
He winked subtly, and Severus decided he didn't want to know what the Headmaster was referring to. The man always seemed to know what was going on before the people involved knew themselves. He seemed to have a sixth sense about everything that happened. And not just the things that affected his beloved school.  
  
Severus narrowed his eyes. He had the distinct feeling Dumbledore knew more about this curse than he was letting on.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
TBC  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
AN: Hehe. I don't think I have any comments on this chapter. But if you do, that button down the bottom left will take you to a magical place that'll let me hear those comments. 


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